Heiress of Slytherin
by kitkatb493
Summary: "Don't you think it's a bit odd that people think there is only good and evil?" "I don't think it's odd at all." What if Tom Riddle, Voldemort, had a daughter? One that was almost exactly like him. Except, she attends Hogwarts with The Boy Who Lived. Well, that changes the course of events, doesn't it? Follow her as she experiences her Hogwarts years, and goes on an epic adventure.
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything by JK Rowling, like the characters, setting, story, etc._

 _Also, pretend Cursed Child never existed. The story will make way more sense._

 **Heiress of Slytherin**

Prologue

October 31st, 1980

"Nathara Aries Riddle."

Cassiopeia Shafiq-Riddle held the girl in her gentle hands. Nathara had gleaming silver eyes, just like her mother, but she had dark hair, and a face like her father, Tom Marvolo Riddle. It would surprise most people who knew Tom that he would be here. But, this was different. Cassie was his only true friend, and Nathara was his heir. Someone to take over when he died…

Tom shivered at the thought. He wouldn't die. How could he die? He, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort, the greatest wizard of all time could not die! He would take over the Wizarding World with his loyal Death Eaters, and little Nathara would become one too. He would not die.

Tom gazed into Nathara's silver eyes and noticed small flecks of green in them. Slytherin. Something larger in those eyes, he noticed, was an urge for power.

October 31st, 1981

"Avada kedavra."

James Potter dropped dead. Lord Voldemort made his way to the room where Lily Potter and her son were in.

"Please, don't kill Harry!" she begged.

"Get out of the way," Voldemort snarled.

This foolish woman, thinking she could defy Lord Voldemort.

"Avada kedavra."

The curse was intended for the Potter boy, but the woman stepped in the way. Without a care, Lord Voldemort proceeded to kill Harry.

"Avada kedavra!"

And everything went black.

The same day

"Mummy! Mum!" One year old Nathara called. Nathara was exceedingly bright, and well beyond most one year olds. She moved very swiftly and gracefully, and could understand most of the Death Eater meetings her father held. She wasn't allowed to join them, but secretly listened. She even showed signs of accidental magic. Just like her father.

"Nathara, sweetie," Cassie rushed into the room. "The Ministry are coming. Hurry get Bitsy. Mrs. Malfoy will be there soon." Cassie pulled her daughter into a tight embrace and whispered,"I love you."

Confused of the sudden worriedness in her mother's voice, Nathara didn't respond. Cassie rushed out of the room. Nathara obeyed her order. She found Bitsy, the house elf. Bitsy apparated as soon as Nathara got hold of Bitsy. Nathara felt the sick, nauseating sensation of being pulled through a small rubber tube, and arrived at Malfoy Manor.

"Oh, Bitsy is so sorry! Bitsy should have warned Mistress Nathara of apparating! What can Bitsy do to help?" the elf squeaked.

"Where's Mrs. Malfoy?" Nathara mumbled, still dizzy from the apparition.

"Right here," Mrs. Malfoy said as she approached Nathara. She took Nathara's hand and lead her inside the elegant manor.

"Where's Mummy?"

By that time, Lucius and little Draco were in the same room as Mrs. Malfoy and Nathara.

"Narcissa, what are you doing?" Lucius hissed.

Ignoring her husband, Narcissa carefully spoke to Nathara, "Nathara, sweetie, your Mum is in Azkaban."

All the glass in the room shattered, literally.

 **A/N: Hello! This is my first story. Please tell me what you think in the reviews section. I will appreciate that. The next chapters will be longer. I will also probably update as often as I can, because I have loads of free time until school starts again. I also like chocolate chip cookies. :)**

 **-Kat**


	2. Chapter 1: The Unexpected Letter

**Disclaimer: My disclaimer applies to all chapters. (Yay, now I don't have to type it over again.)**

Chapter 1: The Unexpected Letter

Nathara did not stay at the Malfoys. There wasn't a specific reason she knew of, but it was something about Lucius and Death Eaters. Nathara did, however, know about her past. She knew about Voldemort, the Potters, Mum, and Azkaban. The last part, about Mum, was completely terrifying for her to think about, but she hid it well. When Nathara was five, she visited her Mum. She watched her Mum die that day. The dementors looming around made it especially worse, and Nathara had a sick felling in her mind that it was her fault.

Opal Shafiq didn't help at all. Unfortunately, Nathara's aunt hated Lord Voldemort and Cassie, Opal's sister. This lead to hating Nathara. Gem always threw insults, threats, and an occasional Crucio at Nathara. But, there were always sweet moments when Nathara could think of a better comeback that could leave Opal speechless. Or, when Nathara could have her special magi spark in her favor. Nathara was glad the rest of the public didn't know who she really was. Maybe some Death Eaters or Hogwarts professors or Ministry people knew, but it never got out. Still, it didn't change much. She was still Voldeomrt's daughter.

July 31st, 1990

It was 4:30 in the morning. No one should have been wandering the streets, or even be fully awake, but a loud thump on the front door came. Nathara woke up very quickly, because she was a very light sleeper. She rubbed her eyes and grabbed her wand.

"Lumos."

The wand didn't really belong to her, it belonged to her mum. Nathara found the elegantly carved light brown stick in a desk drawer, back at the abandoned Riddle House. She used it to satisfy her unbearable temptation for learning magic, knowing that the Ministry didn't keep an eye on it until she was 11. It worked decently for her, but it almost felt as if the wand was reluctant to do anything for her.

Nathara made her way down the stairs, as quiet as a cat, careful to not wake Aunt Opal up. Another thump. She knew Aunt Opal would be up by know. It would be impossible to not wake up, as these thumps vibrated throughout Aunt Opal's house. She didn't really care that her aunt was making her way down the stairs, Nathara wanted to answer the door.

Nathara's hand was on the brass doorknob, and Aunt Opal was at the bottom step. "Nathara," Aunt Opal hissed.

Nathara completely ignored her aunt's warning. Nathara opened the door. There was an old man with a long white beard and twinkling blue eyes standing in the doorway. Nathara has heard of this man. He was Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts.

He introduced himself cheerily, "Hello I am professor Albus Dumbledore. And aren't you Ms. Nathara Riddle?"

"Yes, sir," Nathara replied.

"I am so sorry to intrude at this early hour, but may I come in?" he glanced up at Opal, who nodded, slightly irritated for disturbing her sleep.

Aunt Opal lead them into the sitting room, and they sat down on the plush sofas.

"Here you go," Dumbledore said, as he handed Nathara a letter.

She took it, and smiled at the crest stamped on it.

"A Hogwarts letter? But sir, don't they come when one turns eleven?" Nathara said in a voice that reminded Dumbledore so much of young Tom Riddle.

"They usually do Nathara, but I would say this is a rather special case. Ms. Shafiq," he turned to Aunt Opal, "Would you mind I were to talk to Nathara privately?"

"Of course not, professor," she replied sleepily, and she left.

"Nathara, you have a very special background," Dumbledore started. His voice dropped lower, "I trust you know about it, what your father has done. I just want to tell you that whoever's side you wish to be on, let it light another's path."

"Sir," Nathara interrupted, "I don't really think there are sides. Just power, and what one chooses to do with it."

"Spoken wisely," Dumbledore commented. "Goodbye then."

He left.

Aunt Opal walked in when she heard the door shut. "Oh, Hogwarts. We'll get all of your school supplies tomorrow, if you want me to come," she said, actually sounding quite proud of Nathara.

Nathara, wanting to do this alone for a reason only she and one other person knew, said, "I'm sure I can manage on my own."

 **A/N: I really love writing the story. Again, please review, I appreciate it. Constructive criticism welcome. I'll update soon, because I am actually procrastinating on some other projects right now. But, I have straight A's, so it doesn't really matter.**

 **-Kat**


	3. Chapter 2: At Borgin and Burke's

Chap. 2: At Borgin and Burke's

It was the next day. The streets of London were calm, for this time, which Nathara liked. She wandered off in thought, thinking about what Hogwarts would be like, letting her feet guide her through the familiar streets of London to the Leaky Cauldron. She was deep in a fantasy about being top of class, until her eyes found a rusty sign that read, "The Leaky Cauldron."

"Hello, Tom," she greeted the bartender.

"Hello, Nathara. Hogwarts supplies?"

She nodded. Nathara was here so much that she was on first name terms with many of the staff. She walked to the brick wall where Diagon Alley was located. Using her mother's old wand, she tapped the bricks in the pattern that was to reveal the alley. It opened up a large archway that showed many colorful buildings, containing much magic within them. However, she still needed to do a bit more walking to reach the intended destination. She snickered a bit when she strolled past a girl, about her age, with very bushy hair gape at the Flourish and Blotts display.

 _Probably a Mudblood,_ Nathara thought.

Nathara had already seen Diagon Alley's magic, and so had most other Wizarding families. It wasn't very special or extraordinary.

Nathara kept on walking. She passed Gringotts, having her money prepared already. Finally, she strode down Knockturn Alley. She stopped at a dark, ominous looking shop (not that the shops there weren't dark or ominous), that was Borgin and Burkes, the reason why Nathara wanted to be alone.

"Ah, Ms. Riddle," Mr. Borgin said. "I have something for you."

"You have already mentioned that, sir" Nathara smoothly reminded.

That was true. Mr. Borgin owled Nathara the other day to pick up something.

"Here we are," Mr. Borgin pulled out a fine looking wand from behind the counter. "So you won't have to keep using your Mum's. Elder, 13 inches, Thestral tail hair. Not _The_ Elder Wand, unfortunately."

He placed the wand in Nathara's hand. As soon as it made contact with her naturally ghostly pale skin, a mysterious golden light erupted from the wand, and circled Nathara. It felt warm, comforting, powerful. This wand felt way better in her hand than her mum's ever did. Nathara smiled. A true smile that was very rare for Nathara to show. Noticing that she was smiling this openly, she changed her expression to the usual straight face.

"Well if that's all sir..."

"No, one more little thing. A letter from your father. He gave it to me to give to you."

"How, sir? He can't -"

"Horcruxes. Goodbye Ms. Riddle," he quickly said, and he rushed Nathara out of the shop.

As Nathara traveled back to Diagon Alley, she thought about Horcruxes. She remembered having stumbled upon the word once, in a book Mr. Borgin gave her. Nathara sighed.

Books. She liked books. Not because learning was fun, exactly. She would much rather just have all knowledge in her brain already. She liked books, because the knowledge she gained helped her closer to achieving her many goals.

Nathara reached Diagon Alley. There were more people here now, many Hogwarts students. She noticed that the Mudblood was gone, but Nathara didn't need to go to Flourish and Blotts. Mr. Borgin supplied her with most of her possessions, ever since they met when she was five. Nathara remembered being bored one day, and somehow ending up at Knockturn Alley. Mr. Borgin found her, knew she was the daughter of Voldemort, and they became somewhat friends.

The books she owned were from Mr. Borgin. Nathara recently started _Moste Potente Potions_. Of course, she had done more reading than this, but _Moste Potente Potions_ was her first restricted book. It hid under an enchanted loose floorboard in her room, along with many other unread Dark Arts books. Nathara wasn't sure if she wanted to read these. Her father was a Dark Wizard, the darkest, but Nathara didn't know if she wanted to follow this path.

Anyway, Nathara reached Madam Malkin's robe shop.

"Hogwarts, dear?" a blonde witch, no older than twenty, asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Nathara replied politely.

"Right this way, then."  
The woman ushered Nathara into a room lined with large mirrors. The witch took a length of black fabric, lifted Nathara's slender arms to the side, and began sewing. A minute or two later, another girl, seemingly around Nathara's age walked in. The girl had a pug like face, and her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

"Hello," she said. "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," Nathara answered.

"Pureblood?"

"Yes," Nathara said again.

The girl smiled at this, and continued, "I'm Pansy Parkinson. What's your name?"

"Nathara, Nathara Riddle."

"Part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight then?"

"Yes, and you are too."

"Good. Everywhere I look there's a pack of Mudbloods." This earned a sharp glare from the witch who was still working on Nathara's robes. The blonde witch then exited the room, perhaps to get some more thread.

"I heard Hogwarts is full of them. They are seriously just shit-" Parkinson continued, but stopped since the blonde witch was back, with a considerable amount of annoyance towards Parkinson.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" Parkinson changed the subject.

"Slytherin, the best, of course."

"Ha!" the blonde witch remarked.

"I'm sorry, did anyone ask for your opinion?" Nathara said in a cold as ice voice that shut the witch up.

"Of course, Slytherin is the best..."

Before they could carry on, the blonde witch announced that Nathara's robes were done.

"See you at Hogwarts," Parkinson called.

"See you," Nathara called back.

 _Good,_ Nathara thought, _another acquaintance._

Nathara liked having acquaintances that were useful. That didn't necessarily mean they were friends. Nathara didn't need friends. That was fine, she preferred to operate alone, just like on this shopping trip.

The last things Nathara needed to buy (some new quills, ink, parchment, another cauldron) were bought uneventfully, and Nathara headed back to hom- Aunt Opal's. It wasn't a home. It wouldn't be home, it didn't feel like one. Borgin and Burke's was the closest thing that felt like a home to Nathara. Hopefully, Hogwarts would be a home, too.

 **A/N: Hello people! Thank you to amandita2907 (hopefully I spelled that right) for reviewing. I love the story too, probably because I wrote it. The next chapter will be about the Hogwarts Express. Nathara won't open the letter until chapter 7, you'll see why. I will continue to update, probably tomorrow, because I get annoyed by unfinished work, and I also get annoyed when someone steals my Pokemon on Pokemon Go.**

 **-Kat**


	4. Chapter 3: The Hogwarts Express

Chapter 3: The Hogwarts Express

It was a month before Nathara could go to Hogwarts. Aunt Opal was behaving strangely. She didn't seem to hate Nathara as much, nor did she like Nathara anymore than previously. It seemed like Aunt Opal was simply ignoring that Nathara existed. Nathara wondered why. It was barely an improvement. It was simply just strange. Aunt Opal used to at least acknowledge Nathara's presence. That would change at Hogwarts. Nathara would prove to be great at Hogwarts, and everything would turn out to be alright.

Nathara's mind drifted to the letter that was supposedly from her father. After observing the envelope, Nathara knew she couldn't open it until she got to Hogwarts, as it clearly stated on the envelope in a handwriting Nathara didn't recognize. If it was really from her father, Nathara wasn't sure if she wanted to open it. She wasn't sure if she wanted to follow him, but at the same time she wanted to follow him.

The dreadful month of waiting passed, and on the morning of September 1st, Nathara was excited. It took a lot to get Nathara excited, but this was important to her. It was the day she went to Hogwarts, where things would change for the better, hopefully. But, this could not be guaranteed. She was Voldemort's daughter, and this meant that the future wasn't to stable. But anyway, it was still exciting enough for Nathara to feel it.

She took her trunk she had packed, shrunk it with her wand, hers not her mother's, and carried it downstairs. It was currently nine thirty, one and a half hours before the train departed. That gave her plenty of time to walk to King's Cross. Nathara climbed down the stairs, a certain new skip in her step. When Nathara got all the way down, she saw that Aunt Opal was sitting at the mahogany kitchen table.

"Goodbye," Aunt Opal said, with a new tone Nathara didn't recognize, one gentler than Opal's usual voice.

"Goodbye," Nathara said in her usual cold voice that people still liked.

At that moment, something strange happened. Aunt Opal walked over, and hugged Nathara. Affection was still relatively new to Nathara. To her knowledge, Nathara had only been hugged once before. The gesture felt weird, but oddly satisfying. When it ended, Nathara stared at Aunt Opal for a moment, suspicious. Then, Nathara walked out of the house without another word.

Again, Nathara traveled through the familiar London streets, arriving at King's Cross thirty minutes later. It was about ten o' clock, an hour earlier than the train departing, but it was better to be early than late. She followed the numbers to find Platform 9 ¾. Well, there was Platform 9 and Platform 10. She already knew that you needed to walk at the wall, but she didn't want to embarrass herself in front of these Muggles passing by. Nathara reached out her hand for the wall separating the two platforms. Her hand passed straight through. Confident that she wouldn't crash, she walked into the brick wall.

On the other side, there was a red train that had the name "Hogwarts Express" on it. Only a few families were there. One of them, Nathara noticed, was the Mudblood's. She could tell, because a girl with very bushy hair was part of it. The Mudblood's parents hugged their daughter and Nathara felt just a pang of desperation. Nathara wondered what her parents were like. What they looked like, if they were clever like her, if they loved her…

Nathara shook that off. That was in the past, she shouldn't care about that. She didn't want love, nor did she need it. Feelings were weaknesses. She could manage completely fine on her own.

Keeping her usual straight, stone cold, yet attractive expression, Nathara boarded the train. The train was quite deserted, only a few students here and there. Nathara chose to sit in an empty compartment near the back of the train, in hopes that no one would sit here. She took out her trunk, in miniature size, at the moment, magicked it back to normal, took a book out, and shrunk her items back down again. Nathara began rereading _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ to prepare for the school year.

Several minutes later, her hopes of being alone were ruined. A boy was standing in the doorway of her compartment. Nathara took no notice that he was there. The boy coughed. Nathara looked up from her book and raised an eyebrow, cuing him for him to speak.

"Can I sit here?" he asked.

"Go ahead," Nathara permitted.

She looked at the boy. He had grey eyes, a pointed face, pale skin and a slender build, like Nathara, and sleek white blonde hair. A few moments of silence passed as Nathara marked her place in the book.

"What's your name?" Nathara asked.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he replied, way more dramatically than needed.

Nathara smirked at the way he introduced himself.

"Malfoy? Pureblood, aren't you? Your father's quite high up in the Ministry."

"Yes he is," Malfoy agreed, sounding way too full of himself. "What's your name?"

"Nathara Riddle."

Draco stared at her for a moment, obviously impressed.

"Aren't you the daughter of… You-Know-Who? Father told me all about you," he said in a positive tone.

Another awkward moment of silence. Nathara decided to break it.

"What do you think Hogwarts will be like?"

"I've heard a lot about it," Draco started. "Slytherin is automatically the best house. We'll be in it, of course. I've heard the classes are great, except for history of magic. I'll be top of class -"

"I'm sorry. I thought you said that _you_ will be top of class. I'm sure you meant _I_ will be top of class," Nathara interjected.

"It's a competition then," he offered, holding out his hand to shake.

"It's a competition," Nathara confirmed, shaking Draco's hand.

They went on rambling and ranting about Quidditch, Hogwarts, Mudbloods, Purebloods, the Ministry, and Dumbledore. It all ran smoothly until a particular person opened their compartment door.

"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost one."

Nathara looked at her with a hint of annoyance. The girl had teeth that stuck out a bit, and very bushy hair. It was that Mudblood.

"No," Nathara said firmly and coldly. "Go off, you filthy Mudblood."

The girl squirmed a bit at the word, which pleased Draco and Nathara, and the girl ran off.

"That wouldn't be a problem if we went to Durmstrang," Draco acknowledged.

"I agree. It's probably Dumbledore's fault that the Mudbloods are around here," Nathara added, though she wasn't sure if Dumbledore was too bad.

"Hey, look! Hogwarts! Better change into our robes," suggested Draco.

Nathara saw that Hogwarts Castle was approaching. Nathara Engorgio-ed all her items, which left Draco slightly angry. It was obvious that Nathara would win the competition.

 **A/N: Hello. We meet again. Nathara will be going to Hogwarts next chapter. Of course we all know she is a Slytherin (or is she?). Draco and Nathara become friends (not saying anymore). I'll update hopefully tomorrow or the next day. Thank you to the followers, and again reviews are welcome, unless you say in the review that Gryffindor is the best house. All the houses are great… (but seriously, Slytherin ftw). Bye!**

 **-Kat**


	5. Chapter 4: The Sorting Hat

Chapter 4: The Sorting Hat

As Draco and Nathara got of the train, they heard a booming voice shout out, "Firs' years over here! Firs' years over here!"

The man who owned that voice was about eight feet tall. He had a very large, bushy beard.

"No more than four to a boat please!"

There were many wooden boats floating atop the sparkling, black lake. They looked as if they couldn't support half a person's weight, but this was the Wizarding World. The boats were probably enchanted.

"Nathara!" a voice shouted.

This time, it wasn't the giant man. It was Draco. He gestured for her to come over. He was already sitting in one of the boats with two other people whose size resembled that of a boulder.

"This is Crabbe and Goyle," Draco introduced. "Nathara, I heard that Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. He had destroyed Nathara's father, his power, and destroyed her family. Nathara glanced slightly to the right. There he was, recognizable by his thin lightning shaped scar. His green eyes made contact with her silver-green ones. He quickly looked away. Probably because he knew. He knew about the Daughter of Voldemort. He knew the part of the story only a few knew.

She quickly drew herself out of thought.

 _It is ever so important to be aware of surroundings. Be aware, you'll never know if you might catch something you wouldn't have known,_ Mr. Borgin had said once. He always gave advice to Nathara.

Nathara noticed that they were drifting closer and closer to Hogwarts. The great castle approaching. It stood gleaming along with the night stars. It was truly… truly… magnificent. It looked so superior, but so welcoming, as if it was asking to be explored. All of it, the tall towers to the small boathouse, reflected back into the lake, making a majestic, magical picture.

The man, who she heard call himself Hagrid lead the group of students nearer the castle. He looked at the students, smiling at the wondrous expressions on their faces. His gaze fell on Nathara. Out of the corner of Nathara's eye, she saw Hagrid look at her and his smile changed into a weird mixed face of fear and anger. He looked back at the castle.

That was odd. Nathara did nothing to anger him. Oh, it was most likely about her father. Mr. Borgin kept telling Nathara how much she looked like her father. Nathara had only seen one picture of him. Mr. Borgin's statement was true. They had the same hair color, face, and stone cold expression that still drew people in. The man, Hagrid, probably recognized her as Voldemort's daughter.

After a few short moments, the group of first years were across the lake. Hagrid showed them out of the boats and to the castle.

After a brief walk, the group ended up at golden double doors in the entrance hall. A witch, who looked rather old, her grey hair tied up in a tight bun stood in front of these doors. This was Professor McGonagall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates, but before you may take your seats, you will be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Your house will be like your family…"

Nathara doubted that. Like she would even consider anyone as a _friend_.

"… your triumphs will earn you points, any rule breaking and you will lose points."

Draco shot a rather smug look at Nathara. Somewhere in the conversation they had on the train, they had both mentioned that they could break rules without anyone noticing.

"At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the house cup..."

"Trevor!" someone shouted.

A round faced boy ran to the front of the group, and picked up a toad at Professor McGonagall's feet. Nathara knew this boy was Longbottom, a pureblood. But, you could never tell, the way they behave. People stared at him, and Nathara could tell that most people were trying to suppress a laugh. Seconds later, Longbottom retreated back to his place, and everyone turned to McGonagall.

"The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily."

As soon as McGonagall left, Draco went up to Harry Potter, and spoke to him in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, "So it's true then. What they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

There were hushed whispers at the name, "Harry Potter?"

"You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there," Draco held out his hand for Potter to shake.

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."

It was the perfect cheeky reply, and Nathara half smiled at Potter. He smiled back. Nathara looked away, and mentally scolded herself. Nathara wanted revenge at Potter, so why was she smiling?

McGonagall appeared again. She gestured for the first years to follow through the doors.

The Great Hall was – great. Spectacularly grand, actually. There were five long tables, one for each house, and one at the front for the staff. The ceiling was high and was twinkling with stars against a black sky.

"It's not real the ceiling," Nathara heard the Mudblood say to another student, "it's just bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History._ "

Nathara read that book too. It told all about Hogwarts, except for the countless secret rooms that were more exclusive information.

The first years stopped walking, because they approached a wooden stool with a battered hat on it, the Sorting Hat, on it.

"Now, when I call your name, I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you shall be sorted into your houses. Abbot, Hannah!"

A girl walked forward, sat down on the stool, and McGonagall placed the hat atop the girl's hair. The hat shifted every once in a while, saying things like "hmm" and "interesting". After about half a minute, the Sorting Hat shouted "Hufflepuff!" which earned cheers from the table with yellow and black crests in their robes.

After a few more students were sorted, the Mudblood was called, "Granger, Hermione!" Another moment. "Gryffindor!"

Good. That Granger girl wasn't in Slytherin, Nathara's soon to be house. But, that wasn't a worry to begin with. Slytherin didn't usually take Muggle Borns.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Draco swaggered to the Hat. It barely touched his head when it called, "Slytherin!"

Of course Malfoy would be in Slytherin. All of the Malfoys were.

"Potter, Harry!"

"Gryffindor!"

"R-Riddle, N-Nathara," McGonagall stuttered.

Stuttering is a weakness, Nathara criticized in her head. It showed nervousness, vulnerability. Nathara never stuttered. It made her perfect for persuading and charming people.

As Nathara swept calmly to the Hat, some of the other professors looked at her. Some with fear, others with wonder, one, Quirrell's, of pure delight. McGonagall tentatively placed the Hat on Nathara's head.

In a purring voice, one that almost reminded her of her own, spoke into her ear, "Well, the daughter of Tom Riddle, Heir of Slytherin, very special, special indeed… You are absolutely not a Hufflepuff… Brave in a way, but not a Gryffindor. Such knowledge, but what you use it for… Power, oh yes. Very determined, highly cunning, ambitious, you are positively...Slytherin!" the Hat shouted the last word aloud. It received applause from the Slytherin table, which Nathara took a seat at, next to Malfoy.

After a few more students sorted, who Nathara didn't care about, Dumbledore stood up, "A few words. The Dark Forest is strictly forbidden. Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that the Third Floor corridor on the right hand side is closed to all students who do not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you." He sat back down.

Food had just suddenly appeared on the tables.

"Hello," a fifth year Slytherin girl said to Nathara, "I'm Gemma Farely, prefect."

"Hello," Nathara replied as she shook Gemma's hand, "I'm Nathara Riddle."

"Riddle? Like Tom Riddle? You're the Daughter of Vol-"

"Shh," Nathara cut her off. Using her charming tone, the one that could convince people to jump off a bridge, Nathara said, "I'm sorry. It's supposed to be a secret. Could I ask you a favor? Would you mind keeping that secret for me? No one at all can know. Just between us."

"Of course I would keep that secret," Gemma answered.

"Thank you."

It was always a good thing to have connections to people. However, it was actually quite tiring for Nathara. She didn't like very many people. But some helped you to greatness. Nathara wanted to be great. And, she would be great. She knew she would.

 **A/N: Hello again! Yes, I was going to post yesterday, but school started back up again. English homework takes forever. Anyway, this is when more Harry Potter characters come in. How do you guys think I am doing with writing these characters? How is the plot going? Please tell me. Also, my friends and I were sending each other Harry Potter texts. If you don't get our references, there is something Siriusly wrong with you. See you sometime in the next couple days.**

 **-Kat**


	6. Chapter 5: Under the Lake

Chapter 5: Under the Lake

"Slytherins! Over here please!" Gemma called out.

It was right after the Welcoming Feast. The prefects were leading the Slytherins to the common room. Gemma Farley and Nathara Riddle were becoming decent "friends." Nathara didn't usually participate in making "friends," but Gemma had the prefect status, so Nathara was drawn to her.

Gemma and another prefect lead the Slytherins to the dungeons, where the common room was located. The Slytherin students appreciated the rather dark atmosphere down here.

Gemma spoke to the group,"The password is Pureblood. Other houses cannot guess it, because of their incredibly small mind capacity, except maybe the Ravenclaws. You are not to share this password with any other house."

And with that warning, the hidden door behind Gemma opened.

The room was high ceiling-ed, with lights hanging on chains by it. There were two round tables, off in separate areas, surrounded by straight backed chairs. There was another table, long and rectangular, near a fireplace. Two sofas accompanied it. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and pictures of famous Slytherins. Most of the furniture was a shade of green or black.

"Welcome to your new home for the next seven years," the other prefect, Terrence Higgs, said.

"Remember to check to notice board. Important announcements will be made there. The password to the common room will change every fortnight, so don't be an idiot; check the notice board. Girls dormitories are down to your left, boys on the right. All your belongings have already been brought up. Lights will go out in an hour."

When Terrence ended his speech, Nathara went and checked the notice board. Draco Malfoy was also there reading it.

"Hey, Nathara," Malfoy said, "Bet you three galleons that I will ace the transfiguration class tomorrow."

"Fine, Malfoy," Nathara replied, and Malfoy went to his dormitory.

Nathara read the notice board. It said that Professor Snape wanted to see the first years thirty minutes before breakfast tomorrow.

Nathara made her way to where Terrence had said the dorms were. The dorms were rectangular rooms. They were quite plain compared to the common room. There were five four-poster beds, five desks next to them, and five sets of drawers, all quite spaced out. Comfortable chairs were scattered neatly about, and shelves hung on the wall. The walls themselves were green and silver to represent Slytherin. In the dorm, there was also an area where there was no furniture, but a large window. It showed the Black Lake, which they were under. Nathara was the last person to get there.

"Hello again, Nathara," Parkinson greeted. "You're stuff is over there."

Nathara was pleased to find that her items were farthest away from everyone else's, and nearest the window.

"Hello," Nathara said to the four other people that were there. She was using that charming voice that she was beginning to use more often.

"Nathara, this is Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode, and Tracey Davis," Parkinson introduced. She nodded to the blonde girl, the rather large black haired one, and

"I'm Nathara Riddle." No one reacted, so that meant no one knew that Nathara was Voldemort's daughter. _Good._ She continued, "Greengrass? Aren't you a pureblood too? _Pleasure_."

"Wait, Riddle, you said?" Daphne asked in her more high pitched voice.

There was a pause. Nathara was nervous that Greengrass knew Nathara's little secret, and lash it out, like Gemma almost did. But, impressively, she hid this fear well.

"...Aren't you part of the old pureblood families?"

Nathara was relived. "Of course."

"Oh, thank goodness they're still around."

"I know!" Parkinson joined in. "Everywhere you look there are Mudbloods..."

"… and filthy Muggles," Greengrass finished.

"Hey!" Tracey Davis yelled angrily.

Nathara turned to her, shooting a look that clearly said, _you don't want me as your enemy._

 _"_ Is there a problem?" Nathara questioned, slightly sarcastically, but hiding her annoyance very easily.

Davis hesitated, "I…well... um… no."

"Good."

The room was silent for a moment, quite tense from this little outburst. No one moved, and Pansy was staring a bit menacingly at Tracey, while Tracey was busy looking at the ground. After a few awkward moments of silence, Daphne tried to break the tension, "Well, better get our stuff unpacked."

"Right then," Bulstrode agreed.

Everyone seemed to snap out of a trance while they scrambled to get their things unpacked. The five girls in the room all had a relatively large amount of items, suggesting that they had brought many more magical items than on the school supply list.

Nathara had her wand out, and she noticed that the other girls had theirs out too. Nathara muttered an "Accio" or "Evanesco" or other incantation every so often. No one else was casting as much as Nathara, indicating that Nathara knew more spells than them. She liked it like this; she was already ahead.

Perhaps it was out of sheer curiosity, or out of Nathara's wandwork that Parkinson asked the group of Slytherin girls, "What are your guys' wands made out of? Mine's Hornbeam and Unicorn hair."

"Elm, Dragon heartstring," Daphne answered first.

"Dogwood, Unicorn hair!" Bulstrode yelled quite loudly, scaring her black cat that was resting on her bed.

"Pine, Phoenix feather," Tracey said, still embarrassed from that previous moment.

"Elder, Therstral hair," Nathara said with her usual snakelike voice.

"Really? Like the Elder Wand?" Parkinson asked.

"Yes, but unfortunately, it is not the Elder Wand. I wish it was though. I could win any duel I wanted."

Nathara went back to putting things in the proper places. She incanted a few words, and her clothes flew into the drawers, and the books settled into the shelves near her bed. Her quills, ink, and parchment settled onto the desk with another flick of her wand. Along with the parchment was the letter from her father. She would open that later. There was still an assortment of items in her trunk. Her Gringotts key, money, potions kit, telescope, Dark Arts books, and several other artifacts stayed in her trunk, as they were not very useful at the moment.

"Hey Daphne," Parkinson called her attention, "what's that?"

Greengrass was holding a sparkling ball. It seemed to be made of crystal, but instead of being clear, the inside was foggy.

"It's a crystal ball," Daphne said.

"Really? Are you a Seer?" Nathara joined in.

"A bit, maybe."

At that moment, Nathara's trunk shook. Nathara observed it. The trunk was beginning to shake more and more vigorously.

"Um… Nathara? What's in there?" Parkinson asked.

Nathara didn't have time to answer. A small silver object followed by black wisps of smoke erupted from Nathara's trunk. _Shit,_ Nathara thought.

" _Stop,"_ she commanded it.

The object, a small snake made of silver, fell to the floor.

"You're a Parselmouth?" Parkinson asked.

"Yes," Nathara answered simply.

"What was that?"

"None of your business, really."

That was very convincing for Parkinson to shut up. Mr. Borgin taught her that along with many other skills. Also, it truly wasn't anyone's business. No one's but Nathara's.

"I really need to learn more about all of you," Parkinson stated.

"Let's play truth or dare," Bulstrode suggested.

"No," Tracey spoke up, "only five minutes until the lights go out."

It sounded like Tracey didn't really care about rules, she just didn't want to play truth or dare. The two went on with a debate about what they should do. That left everyone distracted.

Nathara went over to her desk and looked at the letter. The red lettering that once said, "Open at Hogwarts" now said, "Do not open _yet_."

Nathara reluctantly followed the red ink. She tuned back in to hear Bulstrode say, "Fine. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," the girls chorused back, and as if on cue, the lights went out.

Nathara went to sleep with the letter in mind.

 **A/N: Yo. Hi. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. So, Nathara isn't opening the letter yet. This chapter really just focuses on the Slytherin girls. No, you will not find out the significance of that silver snake. Yet. There's a bit of Draco Malfoy in the next chapter, not saying anymore. How do you guys think the story is so far? Anyway, I'll update soon, but I _might_ procrastinate by watching Stranger Things. I like the Christmas lights. Anyway, thanks for reading. **

**-Kat**


	7. Chapter 6: We were at the Library

Chapter 6: We were at the Library

Nathara woke up at five o' clock, like usual, almost three hours before breakfast. Careful not to disturb anyone (everyone was still asleep), Nathara got ready for the day. She jumped out of the sheets, and pulled out all of her things to start her morning routine. Nathara was just brushing her rather long dark hair with a comb when the rest of the girls woke up.

"Morning," Parkinson yawned, still half asleep.

"Half an hour before Professor Snape wants to meet us," Nathara reminded promptly, finishing her tie.

"And how do we know that's true?" Tracey Davis objected.

"Well, assuming you can read, it clearly stated this on the notice board."

"I'm taking my time," said Tracey stubbornly and the rest of the girls nodded in agreement.

"Suit yourself, then."

Ten minutes before Snape wanted to see the first years, Nathara grabbed her bag, put her wand in her pocket (not her back pocket, of course, elementary wand safety), and headed out to the Slytherin common room.

There was a jumble of Slytherins there, mostly older students, checking their bags, observing their schedules, or venturing out to the Great Hall or library. Nathara made her way to the fireplace, currently unlit. This was where Professor Snape said he would meet them. There was only other person there, Draco Malfoy, struggling with his necktie.

"Need help there, Malfoy?" Nathara asked teasingly, but still casually.

"No," he scoffed.

He tried to finish the knot, but the green and silver tie fell off his neck.

With a sigh, he resigned, "yes."

After a small chuckle, Nathara tied the thing around his neck. He was blushing a bit when Nathara finished. Nathara felt like blushing as well, but she didn't.

"Thanks," Draco muttered.

"No problem. So, where are the other Slytherins at?" Nathara asked, noticing the absence of first year Slytherins.

"They didn't listen when I told them that Snape wanted to meet us."

"None of the girls listened, either. You would think people could follow instructions."

They sat for a moment until Snape showed up, exactly thirty minutes before breakfast.

"And where are your other classmates?" Snape asked in a cold drawl that Nathara actually liked.

"It appears they didn't read the notice board," Nathara said properly. She tended to be more polite with adults than peers.

"Every year," Snape remarked. "Shame people can't follow simple directions. What are your names?"

"Nathara Riddle, sir."

"Draco Malfoy," Draco said from behind Nathara.

"Nathara Riddle and Draco Malfoy." Nathara could tell that Snape knew both of them.

"Hmm… five points to Slytherin for both of you." Snape paused briefly, then started a short speech, "Now, Slytherin is quite clearly the greatest house at Hogwarts. We have won the house cup for six years in a row, and I trust you will not mess that streak up. We pride ourselves on our large number of achievements, and will continue to make even more. I expect you to be great in every way. Go off to breakfast, now. I need to have a little chat with your classmates." He handed the two of them class schedules, and walked away.

"Come on, breakfast," Draco said, and he lead them to the Great Hall.

Nathara didn't argue about the route Draco was taking, but that didn't mean, necessarily, that she knew where they were going. After taking a couple flights of moving stairs up, they rounded a corridor. The marble corridor was deserted, with no doors or windows. They were lost.

"Good job, Draco. You got us lost." Nathara criticized.

" _I_ got us lost?"

"Yes, it appears you did," Nathara said snakelike and icily.

The two sat in silence for a moment, trying to came up with their next move. Well, Nathara was doing most of the thinking. Draco had chosen to lean against a nearby statue of a bronze griffin.

The bronze griffin seemed familiar, Nathara had seen it somewhere. Its wing was slightly lopsided, and there was a crack in between the statue and the wall. Wasn't there a sketch of the statue somewhere?

Nathara strained her memory.

Didn't the sketch come from a note at the end of an old journal? What was the caption under it again? _Secrets come to those who wish to find them._

"Hey, Draco," Nathara called.

"What?"

"Pull that griffin's wing, the one that's a bit crooked."

"Why would I do that?"

"Just do it, Draco."

With a sigh, he pulled the griffin's wing. The statue _moved._ It spread its bronze wings out, and moved out of the way. A door was revealed, large enough to comfortably fit Draco and Nathara's size.

Nathara opened it. There was a tunnel, dark and mysterious, but its length seemed to be short. Curious, Nathara started to walk through it.

"Hey!" Draco yelled. "Where are you going?"

"Through a tunnel, clearly," Nathara's voice echoed back. "Are you coming?"

"No, no I'm not!"

"Well, if you would rather be stuck in a corridor all day…"

"Wait! I'm coming!"

Draco followed behind Nathara, whose wand tip was illuminated. It didn't need to be like that for long, though. After a mere thirty seconds, the two passed through another door, and they were in the back of the great hall.

"You're welcome, Draco."

Draco snickered, and they proceeded to the Slytherin table.

The four house tables were now laden with breakfast items instead of dinner. Draco and Nathara found the Slytherin table and took a seat next to Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Where were you?" Parkinson immediately interrogated as they sat down, "Why didn't you tell us to meet Snape? And why where you with Drakey?"

"We were in the library," Nathara lied so convincingly, it could have been the truth. "I did tell you to meet Snape, but unfortunately, you were being an ass, and didn't listen. And, I was with _Drakey_ because he just happened to pay attention as well, unlike yourself."

Pansy looked seriously offended at this. Nathara turned to Draco, " _Drakey?"_

"Pansy," Draco whined, "don't call me Drakey."

Pansy ignored this and changed the subject, "Snape gave us detention."

"Good," Nathara commented.

" _Good?_ It's not good that I have to be stuck with Snape for an hour while you get to do whatever you like."

"Actually, I quite enjoy it."

Pansy was about to continue further when a loud hoot cut her off. Another followed it, and soon, a chorus of these sounds filled the Great Hall. A flurry of brown, grey, and black birds circled the ceiling, which now showed a few stray clouds instead of stars. The owls were flying around, trying to find the recipients to the mail that they carried. One of the owls, an eagle owl, swooped down in front of Malfoy. The owl dropped a green and silver parcel in front of him and flew away.

Draco took the little card on it and read it, "for making Slytherin."

He opened the box. It contained an amount of assorted sweets. Draco was just about to indulge in a Cauldron Cake when a grey owl landed directly in front of his face.

The owl turned away from Draco and moved on to Nathara. The owl dropped a note in front of her, and started pecking at the toast Nathara was going to eat.

"Stop," Nathara commanded it. This tone she was using would've worked on a human, but the owl remained unfazed, which frustrated Nathara a bit.

Nathara heard a light giggle from the Gryffindor table. It came from Harry Potter. Nathara glanced up at him and shot him a look, but less evil and more _positive_. Generally _positive_. It was confusing. Nathara deeply wanted revenge on him for her father, but didn't think that Harry Potter was too bad.

Saving the thought for later, Nathara unfolded the note.

 _Keep the owl, you'll need it. It responds to the name Sterling._

 _-Mr. B_

 _P.S The owl isn't trained._

Sterling the owl wasn't trained. That explained why it was in the middle of trying to bite Malfoy's face off.

"Sterling," Nathara tried, but the owl didn't want to budge.

From behind Nathara, someone intricately whistled. The ornery bird flew away. The whistle, more of a birdsong really, came from a Slytherin in Nathara's year. He had stringy, brown hair, and light brown eyes to match. He was taller than Draco, and was also thin, but not in the graceful way that Draco and Nathara were. His skin was not as pale as Nathara's but still considerably light.

"Thank you for that. I might actually be inclined to pay you five galleons every week to do that," Nathara offered, somewhat sounding like Mr. Borgin when he made offers.

"Deal." The two shook hands and Nathara gave him the five galleons. The boy chuckled at this little scene.

"Theodore Nott," he introduced himself formally.

"Nathara Riddle."

"Nathara Riddle? As in… Daughter of… well..." he nervously spoke. Nathara hated it when people got nervous. She hated to even more when she herself got nervous.

"Yes. And your father…" Nathara continued, miraculously not sounding anxious, which she was.

"Yes," he replied, knowing what Nathara was about to say. "Well… class is starting soon, see you."

And he left.

"Come on, let's go," Draco announced.

"And _I_ will lead this time, Draco."

 **A/N: Hello! What do you think? The story will get a bit darker as it continues, but that's for later.**

 **I will update soon, probably next week when exams are over. And also, I wish I had an owl. But that would be a bit inconvenient, because of how much my friends and I text. Kudos to everyone who read/reviewed/favorited/followed the story. I really appreciate that, I write faster with them. Bye!**

 **-Kat**


	8. Chapter 7: Cats and Competitions

Chapter 7: Cats and Competitions

This time, the students didn't get lost. Nathara successfully lead Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Draco to the Transfiguration classroom, where they were the first ones there. Inside, there were rows of desks, all facing the front of the room. The front of the room housed a blackboard, and a desk with a neat pile of parchment, quills, and ink on top. There was also a grey tabby cat perched on the edge of the desk with the name tag "Professor McGonagall" in front of it.

"Were being taught by a cat?" Crabbe asked.

"Don't be stupid Crabbe. Professor McGonagall probably just has a cat," Draco corrected.

But they were both wrong.

Nathara stepped closer to the cat and observed it. The cat had little silver markings around its yellow eyes. The marks highly resembled glasses. Didn't Professor McGonagall have glasses?

"You're an Animagus, Professor?" Nathara guessed at the cat.

In return, the cat leaped off the desk, and transformed into a human in midair. It received a short round of applause from the Slytherins that were watching.

"Correct. You're the first one to figure it out, for that matter," McGonagall acknowledged. "How did you solve that?" McGonagall quizzed.

"At the Start of Term Feast," Nathara began, "you had glasses. All Animagi have some sort of identifying trait, and the silver markings around your eyes looked like glasses. And it really just makes sense to be an Animagus as a Transfiguration teacher."

Nathara said this in a way that flattered McGonagall with Nathara's knowledge.

"What is your name, miss?" McGonagall asked Nathara.

"Nathara Riddle, ma'am."

"R-Riddle?"

The mood quickly changed. McGonagall was stuttering again. It was clear that McGonagall was frightened. Nathara loathed when people acted like that. However, Nathara went and assured, "you don't have to be scared of a name, Professor."

A seriously genius thing to say, and was critical, because it would soon have McGonagall admire Nathara, instead of abhor her. Although, Nathara wasn't exactly sure if she found her own statement true.

McGonagall stared at Nathara for a moment, unsure of what to think, never mind say. After an everlasting pause, McGonagall smiled warmly at Nathara. McGonagall then transformed back into a cat, and hopped back on the desktop.

Soon after, the other students, which were unluckily Gryffindors, began to file into the classroom. The cluster of red and gold and the cluster of green and silver remained on opposite sides of the room once they took their seats.

Seeing everyone settled, McGonagall the Cat looked at the blackboard. A white chalk that was resting there rose up, and began to scribble notes on how to turn a match into a needle. Just then, two Gryffindor boys walked in. One had hair as red as fire, and the other had a thin lightning shaped scar.

Weasley and Potter.

"We're late," Weasley panted. "Could you imagine the look on McGonagall's face if we were late?"

After hearing this, the tabby cat on the desk took the form of Professor McGonagall.

"That was bloody brilliant," Weasley commented.

"Thank you for that assessment, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps I should Transfigure one of you into a pocket watch. That way, one of you could be on time."

"We got lost," Potter piped up.

"Then perhaps a map. I trust you don't need one to find your seats."

This proved McGonagall to be a more strict teacher. Nathara noted that.

McGonagall started class off with a word of caution, "Transfiguration is one of the hardest and most dangerous subjects you will learn at Hogwarts. Any fooling around, and you will leave this classroom and not return. You have been warned."

She then pointed her wand at her desk, turned it into a pig, and back into a desk again, leaving the students in awe. But today, they were not turning a desk into a pig.

McGonagall walked over to the notes on the blackboard, thoroughly explained them, and passed out a match to each student.

"You may begin."

 _A basic skill, really_ , Nathara thought.

Not taking so much as a glance at the blackboard, Nathara turned the match into a needle with a simple flick. Looking to the side of her, Nathara saw Draco trying to do the same.

"You shouldn't really hold your wand that way," Nathara suggested to him.

She took a hold of his hand, guiding it to form a proper grip. Somehow, Draco ended up furiously blushing, just like when Nathara fixed his tie. But, Nathara didn't notice, or she pretended not to.

"Try it," Nathara urged Draco.

He flicked his wand, and the match turned into a needle, just a bit of a dull one.

"Fine," Draco resigned, "you win the competition."

"Not yet," Nathara pointed at Granger, sitting two rows away from them. Granger was also had a shiny, pointed needle like Nathara.

The girls looked at each other square in the eye. _Another competition._ And Nathara was destined to win. Making sure McGonagall was watching, Nathara changed the needle's color to yellow, then to red, to blue, and finally to green. The Professor rushed over to see Nathara's work.

"Ms. Riddle, even my third years have trouble with that spell. Great job," McGonagall approved. "Hmm…. 5 points to Slytherin."

Nathara looked back at Granger. _A competition, indeed._

The class ended there. Nathara's "friends" got together. Draco, Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and this time, Blaise Zabini

"Did you see that _Mudblood_ in class?" Pansy asked.

"Yeah," Draco said, "she had a perfect needle."

"Well apparently, yours was perfecter," Pansy complimented Nathara.

Nathara half-smiled at this, she rarely fully smiled.

"So, where to next?" Draco asked.

"We are going to potions, Drakey," Nathara answered.

"Don't call me Drakey."

"Alright, Drakey."

And the group headed to potions class. The room was located in the dungeons, giving off a cold air, with a bit of a damp chill. It was very dark, the only lighting coming from fires lit underneath cauldrons.

Draco took a seat next to Nathara, which, Nathara noticed, made Pansy cringe.

 _So Pansy had a crush on Drakey._ Nathara was sure to have fun that information later.

A few seconds passed, and a tall dark figure entered the room, silence sweeping over the class.

"There will be no wand waving, or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. However, for those select few," Snape glanced at his Slytherin students, more specifically, Draco and Nathara, "I can teach you how to bewitch the mind, ensnare the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."

The Slytherins, with the exception of Crabbe and Goyle, who were as stupid as a rock, were hanging on to every word. The Gryffindors were not. Snape noticed.

"...But for those of you who choose to not pay attention," he glared at Potter, and his friend nudged him in the arm.

"Mr. Potter. Our new celebrity."

The Slytherins scoffed at this.

"Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

 _Draught of the Living Dead,_ Nathara answered in her head.

Potter weakly answered, "I don't know."

"No? Let's try again. Where would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?"

 _Goat's stomach._

"I don't know sir," Potter said again. However, Granger's hand was stretched to the ceiling, which Snape ignored.

"What is the difference," Snape tried again, "between monkswood and wolfsbane?"

They were the same plant, but Potter still wasn't capable of answering.

"Clearly," Snape said, "fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?"

"Clearly," Potter said, "Hermione knows. It seems a pity not to ask her."

Nathara enjoyed that line. It came from Potter's mouth, but still.

Snape swiftly walked over to Potter. "Put your hand down you silly little girl," he said to Granger.

"For your information, Mr. Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping draught so powerful, it is known as the Draught of the Living Dead. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and will save you from most poisons. As for monkswood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant which also goes by the name of aconite."

Good. Nathara was correct. Not surprising that she was. Nathara was usually always right.

"Well? Why aren't you all copying this down?"

The class scrambled to get their quills out to copy the facts down.

"Gryffindors note that 5 points will be taken for your classmates cheek."

 _This was going to be a great year._

 **A/N: Hello! Hope you are having a nice day. I'll update next week, probably. The story will probably be a weekly thing now. If you guys want, I could update quicker. Anyways, did I say that Nathara will read the letter this chapter? I lied. I meant next chapter. Haha. That was _totally_ intentional _…._ (no it wasn't). Hope you enjoy. :)**

 **-Kat**


	9. Chapter 8: The Task for a Snake

Chapter 8: The Task for a Snake

The first week of school passed in a flash. Nathara enjoyed every class. Her favorite was potions. Snape was the best teacher. He had a way of making the Gryffindors shut up with little effort, and favored his Slytherins. He also recognized that Nathara always found a way to make the potions better, more effective. Experimenting was dangerous, but Snape did it too, so he didn't seem to mind.

There was also Transfiguration, a subject Nathara excelled at. She could perform spells way beyond the first year level, making the Mudblood a bit furious. McGonagall put aside that Nathara was the Daughter of Voldemort, which Nathara was grateful for.

There was Charms with tiny Flitwick, Astronomy with Sinistra, History of Magic with a ghost, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Nathara didn't exactly like the idea of being against Dark Arts, but the class turned out to be a joke, anyway. Still, Granger and Nathara competed, always. They were both exceptionally brilliant.

The week blew past, and it was lunch at the Great Hall. The ceiling was the clearest blue with very little clouds. And according to Malfoy, the perfect conditions for playing Quidditch.

"Of course, I'm the best Quidditch player there is," Malfoy boasted to the Slytherins. "My father thinks it's a crime that first years aren't allowed their own broomsticks, and I agree."

Malfoy loudly complained about this subject at the Slytherin table.

Nathara thought that he was being ridiculous. She could easily shatter his incorrect views of the world, effortlessly tear them apart, but she decided not to. It was a way of being "nice" to Draco. They were becoming friends, as far as that went with Nathara.

"I bet I'll be the best out of everyone at the flying lesson," Draco claimed.

Right, he was talking about the flying lesson today. Nathara could fly, but she wasn't much of a Quidditch player. And Quidditch was the next subject of Draco's.

"I think the best team is Bulgaria," he said.

Nathara's opinions were different.

"I think the best team is Ireland," she opposed.

"And shamefully, Drakey is wrong," another voice said. Pansy Parkinson's.

Before Draco could argue back, a loud explosion came from the Gryffindor table. A boy who was pointing his wand at a golden goblet evidently blew himself up. He was sitting with his face covered in black soot, and his eyebrows were missing. A very humorous subject for the Slytherins, who were now laughing along with a couple other houses.

"That idiot," Nathara muttered, not even trying to conceal the subtle laughter coming out of her mouth, for once.

"Hey look," Crabbe said, attention drawing away from the explosion, "The Daughter of You-Know-Who actually has emotions."

As soon as he said "Daughter of You-Know-Who," Nathara hexed him so his mouth turned into the yellow bill of a duck, a little spell she invented by accident.

Thankfully, Crabbe said this quietly enough that no one from the other years heard, but it was still loud enough to catch Pansy Parkinson's attention. _Shit._

"Nathara, did he say that you're the daughter of You-Know…"

Nathara cut her off, "Yes, Pansy. It is supposed to be a secret."

Nathara was actually sounding quite calm and emotionless, but that did not match how she was actually feeling.

"But how come…."

"Pansy, you will not share that information with anyone. If you do, I will literally kill you," Nathara threatened quietly in Parkinson's ear.

Pansy froze for a moment then nodded to show she understood.

Nathara enjoyed that threat, but also feared what would happen if Parkinson let it slip. Pansy was always gossiping, and Nathara couldn't actually cast the killing curse yet. Sadly, she would just have to wait and see what happens.

It was the same sound that came this morning. A chorus of hoots and flapping wings. Owls swooped in from the light blue ceiling, trying to find the recipients of the various mail that they carried. One of the owls carried an unassuming brown box, about the size of Nathara's hand. The owl had grey feathers, and it crashed right in front of Nathara. Sterling.

"Stupid thing," Nathara said to it. The owl flew off, knocking over a few books that belonged to Blaise Zabini not far away. He didn't seem to care.

Nathara grabbed the little package that Sterling dropped. There was a note scribbled on it:

 _Do not open in public_.

This was Mr. Borgin's handwriting. It would be wisest to follow his instructions. So, Nathara stored it in her book bag, planning to open it in the Slytherin dorms.

Another owl swooped by, feathers as white as snow, carrying the Daily Prophet.

Nathara mentally noted to get a subscription for that. It might be useful sooner or later.

She glanced at the silver watch around her wrist. It indicated that there was still another thirty minutes until the next class. Maybe she could make it to the dorms to open the package, with enough time to get to class. Thirty minutes… yes that should be long enough.

"I'll see you later," Nathara said to the Slytherins.

"Where are you off to?" Draco asked.

"Where I am off to is no business of yours. I'll see you later."

And Nathara traveled quickly to the dungeons, thankfully not running into anyone.

She arrived at the stone wall where the common room was hidden behind.

"Pureblood," Nathara recited the password.

And an archway formed. Nathara walked through it, and the archway shrunk behind her. She made her way across high ceiling-ed room, climbed down the staircase to get to the dorms, and opened the door to her room.

The room was tidier than they had left it, perhaps the work of some house elves. Nathara went to her desk to open the package that Mr. Borgin gave her.

She untied the thin twine around the box, and the lid popped off. Inside the box was a hand. A skeletal one, rather. The skeletal hand had bones that looked worn, almost rotten. The way the hand was positioned looked like it was meant to hold something. But, Nathara wasn't exactly sure what.

There was a piece of parchment in the box as well. It said:

 _This is a Hand of Glory. I'm sure you know what it does. This one has been broken for a while, no one wants to buy it. I'm sure you could find a use for it._

 _-Mr. Borgin_

A Hand of Glory brought light only to the beholder, was what Nathara knew of it. It was designed for plunderers and thieves. Nathara was more than a plunderer or a thief. She was greater than that. More powerful. Mr. Borgin knew that. Nathara wondered what use she would have for this. There was many possibilities. She would use it when one comes up.

Nathara started to exit the dorm, but as she passed the trunk at the foot of her bed, something exploded out of it. It was her silver little snake. The snake circled Nathara, then settled on her right wrist, where it surprisingly fitted comfortably. Nathara didn't see this as a problem, so she proceeded to get to class.

The sky remained the cheery blue it was earlier. The air outside was fresh and crisp and refreshing, a much different setting than the dungeons or other Hogwarts rooms. The grass below was soft and green. It was a nice day outside.

There were about twenty broomsticks against the grass, all of them looked worn and old. Something the Slytherins did not exactly appreciate. In contrast, there was a bright, peppy witch standing in front of them.

"Good afternoon, class," she greeted.

"Good afternoon, Madam Hooch."

"Welcome to your first flying lesson. Now, what are you waiting for? Step up to the left side of your broomstick, stick your right hand over it, and say up," she instructed.

"Up!" the class shouted.

There were two brooms that immediately flew into a person's hands, Draco's and Potter's.

"Up!" the class shouted again.

More brooms flew up, including Nathara's

"Up!"

It took a few more rounds of shouting, but eventually, everyone had a broom in hand.

"Now once you've got hold of your broom, I want you to mount it, and grip it tight, Don't want anyone sliding off the end. Kick off from the ground, hard. On my whistle."

A cry for help almost instantly came from Neville Longbottom. He was steadily rising higher into the air, with no control over what he was doing.

 _Am I seriously surrounded by idiots?_

Longbottom's broom was wildly flying around and crashing into walls, Neville practically begging for someone to help. It might have been a serious matter to the Gryffindors, but the Slytherins did not see it like this. Not at all. In fact, they were having a fit of laughter. Sure, the Gryffindors were glaring, but it had taken no effect on the Slytherins at all.

Finally, Longbottom crashed to the ground with a thud. A small glass orb, a Remembrall, fell out of his robes. Madam Hooch rushed over.

"Everyone is to keep their feet firmly on the ground while I take Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing," Madam Hooch ordered over Longbottom's whimpering. "If I see a single broom in the air, the one riding it will be out of Hogwarts before they can say Quidditch."

"Did you see his face?" Draco was now holding the Remembrall. "Maybe if the fat lubber had given this a squeeze, he would've remembered to fall on his fat ass."

Nathara highly agreed with that statement.

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry Potter stood up to Draco.

Draco retaliated, "No. I think I'll have it for Longbottom to find." Draco took off with his broom. "How 'bout on the roof? What's the matter Potter? Bit beyond your reach?"

Potter eyed Draco, then took off after him, despite his friend's warning.

The two boys were high in the air. Draco taunted Potter a bit, then threw the Remembrall far away. But, Potter chased after it. He was actually good at flying, though Nathara hated to admit it.

Nathara saw that McGonagall was watching through a window.

Potter caught the ball right in front of McGonagall, and McGonagall disappeared from the window. Potter triumphantly started to sail down, disappointing the Slytherins.

"Reducto," Nathara cast.

And Potter fell down from the broomstick. He was uninjured, but it was just a way to ruin moment, maybe get a little dose of revenge. Nathara made sure that he caught her wink as he got back up. This earned a round of high fives from the Slytherins. It ended just before McGonagall came over.

"Harry Potter!" she called.

Potter trudged to McGonagall, and they went inside the school.

Curious to see what would happen, Nathara discreetly followed.

"Hey, Nathara," Draco said, now on the ground. "Where are you going?"

Nathara placed a finger over her lips, telling Draco that he shouldn't talk. He shortly figured out that they were spying on Potter. McGonagall took Potter to the DADA class. Nathara and Draco hid behind the wall near the classroom.

"But we can't hear them here," Draco whispered.

"I know," Nathara whispered back.

Making sure the hall was empty, Nathara placed the snake around her wrist into her palm.

" _Go listen to Potter,"_ she whispered to it in Parseltongue.

And the silver snake slithered in the air, and latched on to Potter's hood.

"You're a Parselmouth?" Draco questioned.

Nathara nodded. She was a Parselmouth. It was expected for the Heiress of Slytherin. Yes, she was the Heiress of Slytherin as well, but no one knew. Probably.

After a minute or so of waiting, the silver snake latched on to Nathara's wrist.

There were footsteps coming back in their direction, but only Potter's.

"Riddle," he hissed.

"Potter," she hissed back. They walked to wherever they needed to be next.

"So, what did they say?" Draco asked Nathara.

The two were in an empty classroom now. All the items in here looked like they had been forcibly thrown on the floor at some point. Dust was collecting everywhere, but it was a private room.

Nathara took her snake and put it in her palm again.

" _Tell me."_

The snake took a straighter pose, its eyes glowed.

"Mr. Potter, that could have gotten you seriously injured," McGonagall's voice said.

"Ooh, sounds like he's in trouble," Malfoy commented.

"Ooh, sounds like you need to shut up. There's more," Nathara snapped back, somehow still sounding super formal.

"Harry, this is Oliver Wood. Wood, I have found you a seeker!" McGonagall's voice said, excitedly.

And the snakes eyes died back down.

"Seeker?" Draco complained. "Potter's a seeker? First years never make the team!"

"Maybe you should be a seeker, Drakey," Nathara suggested.

"But first years never make the team," Draco whined.

"Well apparently, Harry Potter did," Nathara reasoned.

"We're not allowed our own brooms," Draco pointed out.

"I suppose I can tamper with that," Nathara said slyly.

"How?"

"I have my sources… Well, if you want to try out, they're next week."

And they went to the next class.

The rest of the classes passed by quickly, and soon, the girls were in the Slytherin dorms. It was midnight, but Nathara was still up. The envelope's red ink now read _Open in secret._ It was finally time to see what this letter was.

Nathara decided to read it in the common room, the snores of Millicent Bulstrode were highly annoying. Nathara slipped her wand into her nightgown pocket, and headed up to the common room.

It was completely empty, perfect. Nathara sat down on one of the sofas near the unlit fireplace, and opened the envelope:

 _Dea_ _r Nathara,_

 _I believe this is the first time we have communicated in approximately ten years. However, I will get straight to what is needed to say:_

 _I am only a fragment of the powerful wizard I once was. I am currently using Quirinus Quirrel, a loyal follower of mine, to inhabit. But, we could rise to power, Nathara. We could have the fate of the Wizarding World at our very fingertips. We could accomplish so much together._

 _But, this can only happen if you join me._

 _If so, there is a way for me to return. The Sorcerer's Stone. This Stone produces the Elixir of Life. Quirrel is trying to obtain it for me. I would like you to accompany him on October 31_ _st_ _on the third floor corridor to complete this task. Think of it as a test to prove your worthiness. Keep this letter and your task secret._

 _-Tom Marvolo Riddle_

Nathara stared at the letter. She read it over again. Was she going to do this? Was she going to take his side? But wait, there weren't any _sides,_ she said that herself. It wasn't like Nathara was automatically _evil_ if she helped him. Yes. She was going to do this. She wanted to. She wanted this. It meant a great deal of power, one of Nathara's desires.

A set of footsteps came from the boys dormitory.

"Lumos," Nathara cast. A soft light glowed from the tip of her wand.

"Lumos," another voice said. Their wand lit up, revealing their face. It was the face of Draco Malfoy.

"What are you doing down here?" he questioned.

"What are you doing down here?" Nathara asked back.  
"I asked first."

"Couldn't sleep," Nathara said convincingly. It was true though, Nathara most likely wouldn't be able to sleep right now.

"Me as well."

He sat down next to Nathara, a bit too close for her taste, but it felt fine.

Draco stared at the unlit fireplace, "Lacarnum Inflamari."

The fire glowed, bringing a burst of warmth.

"Not so bad, Draco," Nathara complimented.

"Finally give up on the Drakey thing?" he asked hopefully.

They both smirked. The two stared into the fire.

Nathara thought about the letter again. She was going to be great. She would prove to everyone what she could accomplish. Yes, this was going to happen. The Dark Lord will rise again.

Draco and Nathara were still gazing into the fire. It was making Nathara tired. She rested her head on a nearby pillow, actually feeling exhausted for once. Usually, she never needed sleep.

Draco placed his hand on Nathara's shoulder, for some reason. She usually wouldn't let people touch her, either, but this felt…good. Actually... a bit awkward. Nathara wasn't sure how to describe it.

After what felt like an hour, Nathara wished Draco goodnight, and headed back up to the dormitory. Good.

 **A/N: Hello! I have concluded that this story will be updated weekly. This chapter was longer, lots to get in. Other chapters will probably be like that too. Please tell me what you think, it really helps me make the story better. Thanks for all the follows/favorites/reviews. You're amazing! Hope you enjoyed! Oh, and also, does anyone know how to _not_ burn pancakes? I would really appreciate if someone told me how. Bye!**

 **-Kat**


	10. Chapter 9: Having an Adventure

Chapter 9: Having an Adventure

The month of October was soon to come. The skies became darker, the winds harsher. Cold chills lurked outside the castle, and everyone stayed indoors. It was a dark, dreary, rainy morning today,

so everyone stayed indoors.

However, the torrential rain did not dampen a few people's spirits. Draco was loudly expressing his need to be on the Quidditch team ever since Nathara brought it up. And yes, Nathara was going to try to see if he could.

But, the torrential rain did match how Nathara was feeling. Her mind was still on the letter, it felt like sometimes, in her mind, she was debating herself on what she should do, even though she already made up her mind. She knew what to do, but she didn't. At least, something like that. Nathara didn't let that show.

5 o' clock. Nathara hopped out of bed, and was greeted by a burst of coldness. It didn't bother her. Nathara took her time getting prepared for the day, as there were no classes, but she would need to be somewhere shortly.

Just as she was pulling on some socks, Pansy Parkinson woke up.

"Morning," she mumbled.

"Good morning," Nathara addressed.

"We're going to duel some Gryffindors in a few minutes. Do you want to come?"

"No thank you, I actually have somewhere to be soon."

Nathara did have somewhere to be, and she didn't usually get involved with Pansy's gang anyway. They never knew how to _not_ get in trouble. For example, they attempted to set Granger's hair on fire right in front of a teacher's view. Pathetic. Nathara had broken plenty of school rules (for the right reasons, of course) and no one ever noticed.

"Where are you headed to?" Pansy questioned.

"I don't exactly know. I'm just searching for a person, actually," Nathara answered.

"Well, have fun with that. I'll be in the empty classroom on the 1st floor, if you need me."

"Alright, then."

Nathara slipped into a pair of black shoes, and set off.

Nathara found that she was lucky by the time she got to the common room. She ran into just the person she was looking for. Gemma Farley.

"Oh, hi Nathara!" she said cheerfully.

"Hello Gemma. I was just wondering if I could ask a question."

"Of course. What would you like to know?"

"Well," Nathara started smoothly, "is true that Harry Potter is on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?"

"How did you know that Nathara? That's actually very impressive. Oliver Wood was trying to keep it a confidential until the first match," Gemma snorted, " _Potter."_

"I know, such a bother that the Gryffindor seeker is Harry Potter, isn't it?" Nathara purred.

Gemma continued a rant, "Potter. Everyone thinks he so _wonderful_ , so _amazing_. Ten years ago, when he..."

She looked over at Nathara to see if it was okay to talk about this. Nathara nodded.

"… when he killed your father. He's famous for something he doesn't even remember! And now he's the first first year Quidditch player in a century."

"Actually," Nathara said, "I was wondering if first years could tryout for the Slytherin Quidditch team. You see, there's one person I know who I think can truly beat Gryffindor."

"Is there really? A first year as well? Well, I suppose first years can tryout, but they have to use the school brooms. Unless I can lend them mine. A Comet 260, quite decent, actually. They're a friend of yours, right? And if they're really good… Yes, they can give it a shot! Just let me know when, and I can give you me broom. Wow, if they actually get on the team… If they do get on the team, I'll see if I can bend the first year rule. Well anyways, thanks Nathara! Tryouts are gonna be fantastic! See you later!"

"Thank _you_. Goodbye."

It worked. Draco could tryout for the Quidditch team. Nathara was pleased. This would've been a bit harder if Nathara hadn't actually known Gemma. Gemma was always asking favors, or asking to come along with some things the fifth years were doing. Nathara kind of liked how they underestimated her; she would just use it to crush them later on.

With the good news, Nathara ventured over to where Draco probably was.

The boys dormitory next to the girls. It was only 5:40, Draco would still be sleeping, but he made it clear that he wanted Quidditch news immediately.

Nathara walked to the boys dormitory, the door opening easily for her. Girls were allowed in boys dorms, because they were more trustworthy. Nathara didn't know what would happen if the boys tried going into the girls dorms, but the door definitely wouldn't open this easily.

This dorm was messier than the girls, but it looked almost the same. The colors represented Slytherin, and there was a large window showing the lake. Nathara crossed the room to the bed that was farthest away from the others, with a white blonde haired boy sleeping in it.

"Draco," she whispered in his ear. No reaction.

"Draco," Nathara said louder, tapping his shoulder. No reaction.

"Draco," Nathara almost punched his shoulder. He moaned and dug his face deeper into the pillow.

"Are you awake?" Nathara asked with an indifferent tone, as if she hadn't done anything.

"That hurt," he murmured.

"I have some good news."

"I wanna go back to sleep."

"It's about Quidditch."

Draco bolted upright in bed.

"Can I tryout?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes. You can borrow Gemma's broom, and she will be utterly amazed if you get on the team. She wants Slytherin to beat Potter," Nathara reported.

Draco smirked, "Potter. Can't wait to see the look on his face."

"Bye then," Nathara said as she started to leave.

"I'll meet you in the common room! Give me five minutes!" Draco yelled after her.

Nathara walked back up to the common room. And there were four people there, bickering back and forth.

"We should've locked the door!"

"You were on lookout! You should've seen her coming!"

"But the fight was amazing!"

"That Gryffindor girl, you should've seen her face!"

"At least they got detention with us."

The girls who were arguing were Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode, and Tracey Davis.

Nathara inconspicuously smirked.

"Did you get detention again?" Nathara asked slyly.

Pansy sighed, "Yes."

They sat in silence for a moment. A boy's voice broke it, "Hey, Nathara."

"Hello, Draco," Nathara said back.

"Hi, Drakey," Pansy said from behind. She was blushing. She shook her head. "Come on," she called to her group of girls, and they left to do whatever.

"So, what exactly do you need?" Nathara asked Draco, curious about why he asked her to wait in the common room.

"Want to explore the castle?"

"Why?"

"Oh, so I can practice my _horrible_ navigation skills."

Nathara smiled at that, not a full smile, but like a quarter smile.

"I do agree that you have horrible navigation skills. Lead the way."

And Nathara followed Draco out of the common room.

The two spent time wandering around the halls, both of them taking turns talking themselves out of detention, which happened three times, two of them by Filch the caretaker.

"Does he have anything better to do?" Draco complained.

They had this adventure the whole day, the castle being so huge. They mostly memorized the layout of the first two floors, exactly where each room was, and who would usually be there. They attempted to get to all seven floors, and got lost a total of twenty one times, mostly Draco's fault. Nathara's knowledge of secret passages helped them three quarters of the time. They found new rooms that they never knew existed: The Hall of Hexes, The Dark Tower, and a weird old room filled with dusty, old books in Latin. But none of them seemed magical, or special in any way. Just new. That was disappointing to both of them, as they wanted to find something remarkable.

After a while Draco felt worn out. Nathara truly didn't, because for some reason, she barely required sleep.

"This castle is way too large to possibly be a school," Nathara pointed out.

"Yeah, and one time when going to the library AH," Draco screamed.

Nathara rolled her eyes while Draco wasn't looking, "The staircases move, remember?"

The staircase drifted over to a dark, wooden door. Nathara and Draco rushed over to it. The staircase drifted away from them, leaving Draco and Nathara standing on a floating platform with nowhere else to go. Even more unfortunately, they were stuck three other people who they hated dearly. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.

"Potter, Weasley, Granger," Draco sneered.

"What are you up too?" Weasley interrogated.

"I was just about to ask the same question," Nathara remarked, "and we were just about to head to the common room."

"Us too," Potter said.

"Come on, before the staircase moves again," Granger shoved the other four people through the dark door.

This was a corridor. The fires weren't lit, unlike the rest of the castle. The space was dusty, and had an ominous feel to it.

"Does anyone feel like we shouldn't be here?" Weasley asked.

"Yes, Weasel. We are not supposed to be here. It's the forbidden third floor corridor," Nathara replied.

"My name is _not_ Weasel."

Nathara completely ignored that comment. The Slytherins and the Gryffindors had a moment of silence. The silence was broken by the Weasel.

"Why are you two snakes lurking around the halls? Are you up to something?"

"Why are you Gryffindors as stupid as you look? We said that we were heading to the common room," Draco sneered.

The insult caused Weasley to completely _burst_.

"Riddle, you made Harry fall off his broomstick! He told us! Forget Slytherins being ambitious and cunning! You're just evil and cruel! All of you!"

Nathara was deeply offended by this. She had her wand out, pointing right at Weasley's chest.

"Rictusem-" Nathara started, but Granger pulled her wand out of her hand.

"STOP IT!" she shrieked. "You too, Ron."

Ron was clearly wanting to punch Nathara right now. And he tried to.

"RON!" Hermione yelled at him, and she leaped in the way of him and Nathara.

"Give me my wand back," Nathara commanded Granger, who was trying to pull Weasley away from the Slytherins.

"No hexes," the Mudblood stated firmly.

"Fine."

Nathara snatched her wand back.

"And no stealing wands, Granger."

Ron went back to his shouting. Nathara didn't care to listen to his insults toward Slytherin house, she cared about the little noise that came from behind them.

 _Meow._

"Shut up, Weasel," Nathara glared at the blood traitor, and he reluctantly shut up. "Did you hear that?"

 _Meow._

"I think it might be a cat," Potter observed.

"Might be? Because all dogs make meowing sounds as well," Draco said.

"Malfoy," Potter muttered angrily.

"Out of all the rooms we could've got stuck in, we got stuck in the one with two bloody Slytherins!" Ron protested

"Out of all the rooms _we_ could have got stuck in, we got stuck in the one with a Weasel who won't shut his mouth," Nathara icily fired.

Ron growled as if he were a guard dog. To oppose this dog, a cat with brown fur and red eyes marched into the room.

"It's Filch's cat," Granger warily whispered.

"Run," Potter told them.

And so they ran. The Gryffindors were significantly faster than the Slytherins, or maybe it was just because the Slytherins didn't care as much, they could always talk their way out of detention. Still, all of the students ended up at a locked door.

"Locked," Potter announced.

"Move over. Alohamora," Granger and Riddle said simultaneously. The locked door flew open.

The students rushed inside, not shutting the door behind them.

What they saw was, well, a sight. There was a large dog, larger than all the students put together, resting on top of a trapdoor. Three heads sprang from its neck, and they were starting to wake up. The Slytherins, being smart, quickly rushed out of the room, shutting the door, and locking it behind them.

Draco was breathing heavily, but somehow, Nathara was not. She honestly didn't know how, but it was just like that.

By this time the Gryffindors had unlocked the door, and were also screaming.

"Yeah, thanks for leaving us with that bloody beast!" Ron shouted at Draco and Nathara.

"You're welcome," Nathara responded politely.

"Let's go," Granger directed the two boys, and they disappeared at the end of the hall.

"Well, that was nice," Nathara commented.

"Yeah, _very_ nice," Draco agreed.

Sarcasm was the best.

The Slytherins made their way back to the common room, thankfully not getting caught by any other people.

They were at the grey cobblestone wall where the common room was located. They repeated they password, and split up to go to their dormitories.

The adventure distracted Nathara from something. Her little task was going to come up in a month. She was going to do it, but she wasn't even sure of what she was doing… Wait. The dog was guarding something. It was standing on a trapdoor, it was guarding something. It was on the third floor, and wasn't Quirrel trying to steal something on the third floor? The Sorcerer's Stone. The dog was guarding the Sorcerer's Stone. Nathara had to help get past a three headed dog.

Why did _she_ have to deal with this?

Because she was Voldemort's daughter. If she wasn't, then she wouldn't have to do this. But she was. Maybe it was a _good_ thing, being Voldemort's daughter. Maybe it was. It was probably a good thing. Probably. You can obtain power, people could fear your name, you could be in control. Maybe it was a good thing.

Nathara strolled into her dormitory, and fell asleep.

 _Yes, it was a good thing._

 **A/N: Sorry! I forgot to add an author note when I published this. Oops. Well, anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter! I really LOVE writing this. Thank you to all the reviews/follows/favorites! They really increase my motivation. In 1 hour I'm gonna watch the Super Bowl. Falcons are gonna win. Please review the story if you feel like it, I want to know how you guys are liking it. Also, the Super Bowl commercials are LIT.**

 **-Kat**


	11. Chapter 10: Quidditch and Quirrell

Chapter 10: Quidditch and Quirrell

It was precisely four fifty-nine in the morning.

 _Knock knock._

Nathara woke up. She recalled the strange dream she had.. How she and Draco got trapped with Gryffindors, how they escaped a three headed dog, how Nathara came to realize that the Sorcerer's Stone was probably underneath the trapdoor. No, never mind. Not a dream. It was a real event that happened last week.

 _Knock knock._

Tracey Davis, whose bed was closest to the door woke up.

"Bloody hell," she cursed. "What kind of dark magic are you doing this time Nathara?"

"I would like to inform you that I am _not_ practicing the Dark Arts at the moment."

" _At the moment.,"_ Davis suspiciously pointed out.

Tracey Davis still annoyed Nathara as much as they first met. She had taken to believe that Nathara was a practitioner of the Dark Arts, but with no evidence whatsoever. But, Nathara had been practicing some spells that _might_ have disturbed the quiet environment.

 _KNOCK KNOCK_ _KNOCK._

Davis grunted loudly and sunk back into bed. Nathara walked over to the door to open it.

She placed her hand on the brass doorknob. As soon as she opened it, a voice erupted in her face, "Hi Nathara. So sorry to come this early, but I knew you'd be awake by now."

"Hello Gemma," Nathara said.

"Okay then," Gemma pulled something from behind her back and handed it to Nathara. "Here's the broom. I think it's in quite good shape, actually. Tryouts are today, just in a few hours. You should probably give your friend the broom now. I got permission from Professor Snape to lend it to you."

"Thank you so much, Gemma. I appreciate-"

"Anything for you Nathara. Goodbye." Gemma walked away, closing the door behind her.

By this time, Pansy was also awake.

"That's a broomstick," Pansy pointed at the Comet 260 in Nathara's hand.

"Yes Pansy. And that," she pointed at the plant on Pansy's desk, "is a flower."

"Don't have to be an ass about it," Pansy mumbled, then smiled, and soon broke out in a fit of high pitched laughter. Nathara just sat on her bed, emotionless.

"Don't you ever laugh, Nathara?"

"I don't exactly see what's funny."

Instead of clearly answering the question, Pansy just shook her head, smiling. Nathara hated that.

As soon as Nathara had gathered all her items, she stepped out of the room, ignoring her roommates questions about the broomstick. And Nathara was in the common room. There was another figure approaching her to question the broomstick. Professor Snape.

"Ms. Riddle, Ms. Farley has informed me that she has lent you a broomstick. Why is that?" he asked.

"My colleague, Draco Malfoy, has expressed an interest in trying out for the Quidditch team. He was in need of a broom to do so, sir," Nathara replied charmingly.

"Hmm… You may proceed to deliver the broom to Mr. Malfoy," Snape permitted. "Also," Snape added, "Professor _Quirrel_ _l_ _,"_ he scowled a bit at the name, "requested for you to be in his office by five o' clock."

"Yes, sir," Nathara agreed.

"Carry on, Ms. Riddle," Snape left, his robes billowing behind him.

And so Nathara carried on.

With her silver green eyes, she caught a distinct flash white blond hair at the fireplace. It was Draco.

"Hey Nathara, did you-"

"Yes. Yes I did."

Nathara showed him the broomstick. Draco smiled.

"Just like my old one. I'm so gonna beat Potter," Draco claimed. "Thanks Nathara."

He pulled Nathara into a quick, casual hug, apparently not noticing how she tensed slightly. Hugging was a bit odd, in Nathara's opinion.

"Good luck, Draco," Nathara wished.

He smiled. _What was with everyone smiling today?_

Nathara's half-smiles were usually as far as smiling went with her.

 _"_ Do you wanna head outside?" Draco requested.

"I was just about to do that, actually," Nathara informed. And so they went together,

They got out of the common room, up a couple staircases, across the entrance hall, skipping breakfast, and through the doors that lead to outside. It was an uncharacteristically nice day for October, warmer than usual, and there were minimal clouds lingering in the sky.

"I'm going that way," Draco pointed to the left.

"I need to be over there," Nathara pointed to the right.

"Isn't that where the Forbidden Forest? Students aren't allowed in there. Why are you going?"

"I have some reasons. Goodbye," Nathara said without another word.

The Forbidden Forest was forbidden, according to the name. Nathara naturally didn't care. Ignoring the warnings, Nathara headed to the forest, just past a little hut.

There was a giant man outside, tending to pumpkins almost as big as him. He noticed Nathara coming, but didn't even give a damn that she was going into these dark, dangerous woods. The giant continued tending to his pumpkins, seeming to forget that Nathara was ever there. Wasn't that the man who kept scowling at her on the boats?

Not wanting to waste any time, Nathara headed into the forest, planning out in her head what she would do if trouble decided to follow her. The forest was dense with trees that barely let any sunlight in. The ominousness didn't phase her. In fact, it was more comforting.

Nathara treaded carefully, as to not disturb any life. Luckily, what she needed was more towards the edges of the forest, so she wouldn't have to face what terrible creatures might lurk here. That's what she thought.

"You there! Little girl!" a voice shouted.

Nathara whipped around, instinctively drawing her wand out of her pocket.

"Put that wand away! You are intruding our land and our peace!"

Nathara could see what was talking to her. The top half of it looked like a human, the bottom half a horse. A centaur, beings that require a high amount of respect. Nathara put down the wand.

"I am so sorry to intrude," Nathara. "I must say that I did not mean to. I will leave now, if you wish."

"No, stay a little," the centaur said. "You are very interesting."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"You are Nathara Riddle, are you not? Heir of Slytherin. You look troubled."

She looked troubled? Usually her expression didn't give away anything at all.

"How did you know that information?" Nathara asked.

"The stars tell us all," the centaur answered simply.

Astronomy was a form of divination that Nathara had a grip on. Centaurs were gods at it compared to humans. Mysterious.

"You wish to not talk about this troubling situation. I shall leave that subject alone, Nathara."

That was accurate. It gave Nathara the chills, someone knowing the secrets she kept.

"You are also the Daughter of Voldemort," the centaur stated.

"And so I am," Nathara replied, secretly worried that this conversation would take a turn.

"You are not like many people, Nathara. You're very special. I shall not judge you based on your father."

"Thank you," Nathara said.

"Well then, go on, Nathara. And if you ever need me, ask for Firenze."

"Firenze," Nathara repeated. "Thank you."

Firenze nodded and trotted away.

Well that was what a centaur was like. Nathara wished that they weren't so good at reading people, but it was quite an amazing skill. Not even Mr. Borgin would've been able to decipher Nathara, and she practically lived with him for six years.

Nathara walked deeper into the forest, not seeing what she needed, or seeing anything interesting at all. Disappointing. She climbed up one of the shorter trees, and rested on a sturdy branch, keeping an eye out for any disturbances.

However, she was thinking more than watching.

When she would meet Professor Quirrel, it would probably be about the Stone. Her father said that he was possessing Quirrel somehow. Maybe she would finally get to meet him. He would be able to resurrect with the Stone.

No she wasn't evil, she thought.

 _But everyone thinks your father is,_ a nasty little voice in the back of her head said, _why would you be any different?_

She wasn't evil. That was final.

Nathara, lost in thought, didn't even notice that a snake was slithering along the same branch she was sitting on.

It spoke to her, _And who is thisss?_

Nathara spoke back in Parseltongue, _I am Nathara Riddle._ _You?_

 _I am Arwin. You Riddlesss are legendsss to usss sssnakesss._

Arwin, a black adder, slithered up Nathara's arm.

 _Humans don't go in the foressst. Why are you here, misss?_

Nathara hissed back, _I have come to obtain some things._

 _What thingsss would a little girl need in the dark, sscary foresst?_ Arwin inquired.

 _Some Demiguise hairs,_ Nathara answered.

 _Demiguise hairs? Oh, I know where they are!_

 _You do?_ Nathara said, _Can you show me?_

Of course, Arwin hissed.

The snake slided off the tree, Nathara following behind it. It glided silently across the grass and leaves strewn on the floor. The snake traveled slightly faster than Nathara, leading the way.

After a quick five or so minutes, the snake stopped behind a bush. It looked over said bush, and hissed to Nathara, _Here we are, misss._

Nathara peeked over the bush. There it was, a Demiguise. It resembled a maybe an ape, or something of that sort. It had large, gleaming black eyes, and off white hair.

 _Be unpredictable,_ Arwin advised.

Demiguises could predict the most likely future, which made it a slightly harder beast to catch. And of course, there was the fact that they could turn invisible. But they were actually harmless herbivores that couldn't cause too much damage. Still, it was best to be cautious.

Nathara quickly shot a Petrification spell over the bush, but the Demiguise dodged it.

 _To predictable, misss._

Nathara noted that. Be unpredictable.

Nathara walked over to the Demiguise. It looked up at her curiously, then went back to eating its red cherries.

 _How would you be unpredictable?_ Nathara wondered. She turned over to the Demiguise. It looked up at her. Nathara was still planning how to be unpredictable.

 _Planning how to be unpredictable?_ That was it! Just don't plan anything.

As soon as she came up with the realization, a snake dropped down on the Demiguise, knocking it out.

 _You're welcome, misss,_ Arwin said.

 _Thank you,_ Nathara said.

 _Arwin must go now. Goodbye, misss._

Nathara looked back over to the unconscious Demiguise. The thing still had a cherry in its mouth. It was actually a bit cute. However, Nathara didn't feel guilty at all when she cut off a patch of its fur with her wand and stowed it away in her bag. It was the perfect amount of hair for her invisibility potion.

Yes, she was going to make an invisibility potion. Recently, she had gotten bored with the library, and wanted to go in the restricted section to find some more useful information. Invisibility potions didn't seem too difficult to make, but they took a long time to prepare, a few weeks, at the least. But it was worth it to not get caught by the hawk-like Madam Pince.

Nathara made her way out of the forest. She saw that the giant, Hagrid, was trying to play a flute in the distance, and was failing miserably. Casting a Muffling charm over her ears, she walked over to the Quidditch Pitch.

It was quite far away, but Nathara tried to get there as quickly as she could.

She saw three tall posts ahead, with three rings resting on top. There were different sized and colored balls flying in the air, and players on broomsticks doing things with the balls. A person threw a medium sized red one, the Quaffle, through a hoop, and someone flew down toward her.

"Hey Nathara!" Draco called as he flew down towards her.

Once he was on the ground, Nathara asked, "How did it go?"

"I got on the team!" he replied excitedly. "It was a close call, actually, but I had my way."

Nathara looked at him, and saw him retreat a bit at her scanning gaze.

"You bribed them?" she concluded.

Draco hesitated, then said yes.

"Whatever it takes, I guess," Nathara said.

Draco smirked, "Whatever it takes."

"What did you bribe them with?"

"My father will buy the team Nimbus 2000s."

"Right, your family is one of those extremely wealthy ones."

Draco smirked again, "Yes. Is yours?"

"You could say that."

The Riddles weren't very rich, but the Shafiq family, Nathara's mum's, was. And Nathara's mum inherited most of the family's money. When she died, Nathara inherited that, and it was locked away in a Gringotts vault. And no, Nathara never thought about her mother's death. She made herself forget it.

"Could say that?" Draco questioned.

"Yes."

That left Draco a bit confused, but he didn't ask any more questions on that matter.

Draco switched subjects, "I don't see how you could've gone into the Forbidden Forest and not get killed, Nathara."

"Well, you see, I went into the forest, and did not die."

* * *

It was four fifty seven. Nathara Riddle was almost outside the DADA classroom. Just as she was about to knock on the door, someone opened it.

"Ah, Ms. R-Riddle. I h-have been expect-t-ting you," Professor Quirrell stammered. He rushed Nathara in the room and quickly closed the door behind her.

"I'm so sorry I didn't do this sooner. Nathara, I have some very important matters to discuss with you." Gone was his awful stutter, and here he was, talking in a confident voice.

She acted like she wasn't confused by that, "Is this about the Sorcerer's Stone, sir?"

"Yes, Nathara." He dropped his voice lower, "I'm sure you know that we will steal it on the 31st?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now the Stone is hidden-"

"Beneath the trapdoor on the third floor, which is guarded by a three headed dog, sir."

Quirrell smiled, "Well, it appears you've already figured it out. Good job. Now, I will try to Stun the dog out of the way so we can get through the door."

That was a stupid idea, to aggravate a large animal.

"Wouldn't it be safer to just play a bit of music? Most creatures will fall asleep with that approach, sir," Nathara suggested.

Quirrell thought about that for a moment, "It would, wouldn't it? Hmm… Great suggestion, Nathara. We will do that."

Nathara smiled (her definition of smiled) at that. "Is there anything else, sir?"

Out of nowhere, a raspy voice said, "Show her."

Nathara looked around the room, trying to find the source of the voice.

"Master, you are not strong enough," Quirrell objected to the voice.

The voice sighed quietly, then said, "So I am not. You will show her when the time comes?"

"Of course, master."

And the voice no longer came.

"Who was that, sir?" Nathara asked.

"You'll find out soon enough, Nathara. Off you go. Goodnight," he opened the door with his wand.

"Goodnight, sir."

And Nathara Riddle went back to her dormitory with one word in mind, the one that Mr. Borgin said way back in Knockturn Alley before the school year started. Horcruxes.

* * *

 **A/N: Yo. Hi again. So next chapter will be posted next week, hope to see you there! Also, I'm thinking about starting another fic for Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, which I will refer to as FBAWTFT, because the title is too damn long. Siriusly. I have a couple ideas for it, but if you guys want to suggest some, feel free, and keep an eye out for that. Thank you for all the follows/favorites/reviews. You are AMAZING! One more thing: What's Harry Potter's favorite way of getting down a hill? Walking….. JK! Rowling.**

 **-Kat**


	12. Chapter 11: Unhappy Birthday

Chapter 11: Unhappy Birthday

October passed in a flash. It was filled with normal activities, Draco taunting Potter, Granger and Nathara competing, and regualar Hogwarts things. The Weasel twins kept pranking the Slytherins one way or another, one of their pranks targeted at Nathara. The first year Slytherins pranked them back so elaborately and cleverly, the twins actually tried making friends with them. That… let's just say it didn't end well. Purebloods and Blood Traitors don't mix.

As October unfolded, the students learned the patterns of Hogwarts. Don't be caught by Filch unless you're a smart Slytherin, _never_ be caught by Madam Pince no matter who you are, always applaud when McGonagall turns into a cat, the first door on the left doesn't lead you anywhere, don't try to break in to the Hufflepuff common rooms, do Snape's homework first, and never tickle a sleeping dragon, to name a few.

However, while the people of Hogwarts were just being normal wizards and witches, Nathara was off elsewhere. Lots of times, Nathara was in the library, looking at books way too advanced for an average first year. She was in empty rooms that were concealed behind paintings and statues practicing who knows what. She was in Quirrell's office, him describing vaguely about Dark Arts and Death Eaters.

Between regular classes and these rather dangerous tasks, it was a miracle Nathara had spare time. She didn't have a Time-Turner, no, but she did manage her time well.

And as of right now, 4 o' clock, October 31st, Halloween, Nathara's birthday, Nathara was pacing in the dormitory. She was…. Nervous. She hated to admit it to herself, but she was.

It was the day she would steal the Stone, the day Voldemort would probably return, the anniversary of her father disappearing in the first place, and her birthday. The birthday part made it slightly better, but not enough.

And pacing around the room didn't actually make anything better.

Her steps, although very quiet, still made some sounds, and it woke Pansy Parkinson up. Nathara noticed quickly, and sat down in the chair that was near her desk. Nathara thought Pansy would just go back to sleep, since there was nothing new about Nathara being up at four in the morning, but Pansy didn't.

"You were pacing," Pansy stated.

Nathara remained silent, not exactly wanting to respond.

"Why?"

"I'm just not very tired," Nathara lied. It would've worked with most other people, but Pansy didn't buy it.

"I know that's bullshit, Nathara," Pansy said.

"And so you do."

The girls were looking each other in the eye, as if they could try to read each others' minds. They almost could.

"Something about You-Know-Who, isn't it?"

Pansy looked at Nathara in the eye, but she could uncover nothing from the emotionless mask Nathara held up.

"Why would you want to know?" Nathara asked.

"Nathara, we're friends," Pansy said.

"Friends?"

"Yeah, friends. I care about you."

Pansy walked over to Nathara, and wrapped her arms around her.

"You looked like you needed a hug," Pansy told Nathara.

"I don't," Nathara opposed, struggling to grasp this concept.

"Oh well."

Pansy embraced Nathara for a few more awkward moments (awkward to Nathara, at least), and finally let go.

"Please stop getting up this early, and please stop skipping meals to do whatever shit," Pansy requested of Nathara.

That wasn't going to happen, but Nathara didn't mention it. Pansy crawled back into bed, leaving Nathara alone. It was better alone.

After about 15 minutes, Nathara headed to the common room with all her needed things on her. Despite the early hour, the common room was not empty. There were three people in a corner Nathara didn't care about, and one person near the fireplace. That person was Draco Malfoy.

"Nathara," Draco beckoned for her to come over.

She really didn't want to come over there, but she did so anyway. She needed to get somewhere, but it couldn't hurt too bad.

"Here," Draco handed her a chocolate bar, and he started to eat his own.

"Thank you," Nathara said, and then indulged in the chocolate as well. Not too many people knew, but one of Nathara's favorite things was chocolate.

"Happy birthday," Draco said to Nathara.

"How did you know it was my birthday?" Nathara questioned. Nathara never told anyone that it was her birthday, and she thought that no one knew.

"My father said it was."

 _Lucius Malfoy, wasn't it?_

Lucius, Nathara was told by Mr. Borgin, was a very active, loyal follower. He _admired_ the Dark Lord. He enjoyed muggle torturing, very much a pureblood supremacist.

Draco said nothing more, so Nathara left.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, but Nathara was already out of the common room by the time he said anything.

The first floor girls' lavatory was always out of order. Nathara wasn't sure why. The room looked clean, and all the facilities seemed to be in working order. Still, there was a sign that said "out of order" on the door, so no one ever went in there. It was the perfect space for potion brewing.

Approximately two weeks ago, Nathara found out that Peeves, the most annoying ghost in Hogwarts, would wreck empty classrooms. One time, he found his way into the one where Nathara was brewing a potion in, and tipped over the cauldron, spilling dangerous ingredients on the floor. Then he threw chalk at Nathara, which wasn't a big concern, but still obnoxious.

A few days after that, Nathara discovered this bathroom, where there was no one to distract her. Nathara had been brewing the invisibility potion in here, which would most likely be complete in early November.

Blue steam rose from the potion once Nathara added cherries. The steam filled the area, giving a mystical feel to the room.

Nathara checked her watch, only 5 o' clock. Plenty of time to do more to the potion. She added another component, a dash of castor oil. It wasn't written in the book to put this in, but from studying theory books, Nathara was almost positively sure it would lengthen the effects. A drop of castor oil was put in, and immediately, the potion hissed and made the blue steam fill more of the room.

"Can you please get rid of the blue stuff?" a voice asked. The voice was a girl's, and was very high pitched.

"No. I am very sorry I cannot do that," Nathara replied to the voice. Nathara added, "Who are you?"

"Oh, who would ever want to know me?"

There was a splash from the direction the voice came from. A girl rose into the air. Not a real girl, a ghost of one. The ghost floated up towards the ceiling, and back down to the sinks. The ghost was a greyish blue, she almost blended in with the smoke coming from the potion. Glasses adorned her eyes, and her hair was in pigtails. The badge on her robes suggested she was a Ravenclaw.

The girl seemed familiar, but Nathara wasn't sure where she had seen her.

"Aren't you Myrtle?" Nathara asked. "Myrtle Warren?"

"Oh, yes I am. Nobody ever calls me by my real name. Ugly Myrtle! Stupid Myrtle! Miserable, moping, moaning Myrtle!"

Myrtle let out a shriek and dove into a toilet, causing a splash. A loud sob was let out before Myrtle came up again. When she did, she studied Nathara's face.

"You know, you look like a boy I went to school with. I don't remember his name, but you do look like him," Myrtle pointed out.

"Do I? I must say, you look familiar as well," Nathara said.

"Well I just stay in this bathroom all the time. Nobody knows much about me," Myrtle said.

"How come I haven't seen you until now?"

"Well, you looked very concentrated on that potion of yours. Didn't want to bother you. But I can't stand that blue smoke! One day, Olive Hornby was brewing a potion, and she spilled it on my robes!"

Again, Myrtle whined and made a large splash in the toilet.

"Excuse me, Myrtle. I would highly appreciate if you wouldn't do that," Nathara requested.

"Oh, fine. You seem very nice anyway," Myrtle said.

"Thank you, Myrtle," Nathara said.

"You're welcome. I didn't catch your name."

"It's Nathara Riddle."

"Riddle?"

Nathara nodded, still able to conceal her fear.

"Riddle," Myrtle continued, "Riddle…. I've heard of that name somewhere."

Nathara pretended to glance at her watch, "Must be going, now. Goodbye, Myrtle."

"Bye Nathara."

Nathara walked out of the bathroom. She didn't really need to go anywhere quickly, but she didn't want Myrtle to realize who Nathara's father was, in case Myrtle knew. She wanted no one to know. Nathara could act, lie, deceive. No one will know.

* * *

"Er...P-please st-top that."

They were in the DADA classroom. Slytherins had the class with the Gryffindors, unfortunately, and the Gryffindors were trying to provoke the Kneazles that Professor Quirrell had brought in for the class. One of the Gryffindors managed to get one out of the cage, and set it on Theodore.

"Hey!" Theo screamed.

The Gryffindors giggled, but stopped as soon as Nathara's deathly glare fell on them. She turned to Theo, who was getting attacked by the vicious creature.

"Er-class. Calm down," Quirrell feebly attempted to get the class to be quiet.

"SHUT UP!" Pansy Parkinson roared across the room. Everyone fell silent in an instant.

"T-thank you, Ms. Parkinson."

Parkinson smiled a bratty smile.

"Ho-Homework: Read chapter twenty-twenty one i-in your b-b-books. C-class dismissed."

The students filed out of the classroom to get to wherever they needed to be.

"M-Ms. R-Riddle," Quirrell called.

"Yes, Professor?"

Nathara walked over to Quirrell.

Quirrell locked the door, and spoke quietly into Nathara's ear, so no one could hear.

"Remember, today, third floor corridor, right after the Halloween Feast, you'll know when," Quirrell reminded.

"Yes, Professor. I will remember."

"Of course you will. You remember everything," Quirrell complimented. "How are you feeling?"

"Sorry, sir?"

"How are you feeling? Are you nervous, scared?"

How was she _feeling?_ Quirrell never asked that question before. It wasn't like Nathara ever _showed_ any feelings, a _rock_ could display more than Nathara. But Nathara _felt_ nervous.

"I am feeling great, sir," Nathara lied, swiftly as a fox. Quirrell bought it.

"Good, Nathara. Nothing good comes out of fear. Now go to class."

And Nathara did so.

"One of the wizards most rudimentary skills is levitation, or the ability to make objects fly."

Nathara walked to the class, which she was now late to. However, unlike Potter and Weasley, she didn't burst through the doors, and instead slipped quietly into an empty chair. A Gryffindor noticed, but did not take the time to tattle on her. Though, it would be so easy to just be something so unnoticeable and sly, you could get away with almost _anything_. Like a snake.

"Do have your feathers," the tiny Professor Flitwick squeaked. "Good. Now, remember that nice wrist movement we've been practicing: The Swish and Flick."

"The Swish and Flick," the class chanted.

 _The Swish and Flick? Very basic,_ Nathara thought.

"Oh, and enunciate: Wingardium Levisosa. Off you go, then."

"Wingardium Leviosa."

No one who had cast the spell had succeeded, so that meant that Nathara or Hermione had done anything yet.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Weasley shouted behind Nathara, and he started repeatedly flicking his worn looking wand at the white feather in front of him.

"Stop, stop stop," Granger commanded him. "You're going to poke someone's eye out. And besides, you're saying it wrong. It's LeviOsa, not LevioSA."

"Well you do it then, if you're so clever," Weasley challenged.

In return, Hermione smiled, straightened her posture, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa."

Her feather levitated gracefully in the air, which Flitwick noticed.

"Oh, well done! Look here everyone! Ms. Granger's done it!" he acknowledged.

Hermione's eyes met Nathara's. It could have been a staring contest if it hadn't been for a loud exploding noise across the room.

A Gryffindor was sitting, wand still in hand, in a pile of soot. His face was covered in it, and the feather had taken a new black color.

"I think we're going to need another feather over here, Professor," Harry Potter announced.

Shaking her head at that Gryffindor's stupidity, Nathara cast the spell herself, with a hand motion that was definitely _not_ The Swish and Flick. "Wingardium Leviosa."

All of the feathers that were near Nathara rose up into the air. They lingered there even when Nathara put her wand down. Flitwick saw this, and was staring at Nathara in shock, because he probably never got a first year who did this.

"I think we are going to need some _more_ feathers over here, Professor," Nathara said.

* * *

The Great Hall was in the spirit of Halloween this night. Instead of the floating candles that usually gave light to the Hall, there were Jack o' Lanterns, cut with all different faces. Bats also flew around the ceiling with the lanterns, all with a background of a starry night sky.

The food was magnificent as usual, Crabbe and Goyle stuffing their faces as usual. The first year Slytherins were in a group, discussing what to do on this special, spooky night.

"I say we prank the Gryffindors," Draco said.

"All of your plans involve pranking the Gryffindors, don't they Draco?" Nathara said, biting into a chocolate bar.

"Well, it's fun to watch them try to prank us back."

"And it's not fun for us when they actually do, Draco," Pansy pointed out. "We know what happened when you tried to get Thomas and Finnigan. I'm sure Tracey wouldn't want to do that again."

"I really don't," Tracey agreed.

"But why-"

"TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!"

Everyone hushed their conversations. To look at the Professor who shouted that. Professor Quirrell.

"I thought you ought to know," and he fainted.

The Hall erupted into a state of panic and loud screams.

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore bellowed over the students. "Please not panic. Now, prefects, take your students to your house dormitories. Teachers, follow me to the dungeons."

People rushed to find their prefects, except one. Nathara was looking at Professor Quirrell. When no one was looking, he opened his eyes, and winked. He nodded to a door directly behind Nathara.

 _Wait for me_ ," he mouthed.

Nathara nodded and proceeded to the plain, unassuming door. Inside was a small, dark room. There was a narrow, wooden staircase leading up, and a light at the other end. Nathara peeked through the crevice of the door that she went to. Most of the students were gone. Nathara wondered how her fellow Slytherins were doing, as the common room was in the dungeons along with where the troll was supposed to be.

Nathara stepped away from the door just as Quirrell opened it.

"Follow me, Nathara," Quirrell climbed up the staircase, Nathara following him.

In a short amount of time, they were at the third floor corridor. Quirrell and Nathara walked down to where the three headed dog was.

As they were walking, Quirrell brought out a little flute from his pocket.

"We will play this to sedate the dog, and then we go through the trapdoor," Quirrell reviewed.

"And what will happen once we go through the trapdoor, sir?" Nathara inquired.

"I can't tell you. I do not know."

Once they arrived at the place where the dog was kept, Nathara and Quirrell realized that they were not alone.

"Expelliarmus!" someone shouted. That someone was Professor Snape.

"Quirrell," he sneered. Snape looked at Nathara, who had her wand concealed, but ready. Snape did not verbally acknowledge her presence.

The two men looked at each other square in the eye, then fought their way to the door with the dog. Nathara was behind them.

Once all people were inside the room with the beast, it was quite hell.

The dog stood firmly on the trapdoor, growling lowly. No one moved a muscle. That is, until the dog's heads started barking rapidly. It clearly wanted to attack the closest thing it could, which was Snape.

The dog's long claw pierced Snape's leg. Lots of blood gushed from the wound, but the dog was still unsatisfied. It went for Nathara.

Nathara dodged to the side once she saw the dog's paw approaching. She had to swerve out of the way again when one of the heads tried to bite Nathara's left arm. Instead of the dog's teeth clashing with her arm, the dog's claw teared at Nathara's collar. A jagged cut appeared near Nathara's neck, but she didn't care. Nathara backed up, wanting to get as far away from this thing as possible. She collided with an object.

It had strings and a heart-like shape. _It was a harp._ Nathara tugged at a couple of strings, the sound vibrating throughout the room. Once the sound reached the dog, its barking seemed to lessen. With her wand, Nathara cast a charm on the harp so it would play a soft melody that lulled the dog to sleep.

Snape marched angrily over to Quirrell, his glare as threatening as a million daggers.

"You will come with me," Snape told Quirrell. Snape also looked over at Nathara, still not saying a word to her.

Snape took both of them away from the third floor. Both Snape and Nathara's injuries ceased bleeding, but still visibly red. Snape dragged them to another room. A bathroom.

The bathroom was visibly obliterated. The stalls were collapsed, the sinks smashed, water flooding the floor. And, there was a troll in the center of the room, unconscious. There were three people around the troll, Granger, Weasley, and Potter. Around the doorway, an assortment of teachers stood.

"Stay here, Nathara," Quirrell pointed to a spot near the door that was in earshot, but hidden enough that nobody could see Nathara.

Snape glanced at where Nathara was, then turned to the teachers.

Nathara heard McGonagall say, "Explain yourselves. Both of you!"

Weasley and Potter struggled to come up with a response, while Granger said, "It was my fault, Professor."

"Ms. Granger?"

There was a moment of silence, people pondering why _Granger_ would do this.

"I went looking for the troll," Granger explained. "I read about them and thought I could handle it. But, I was wrong. If Harry and Ron hadn't come and saved me, I'd probably be dead."

Nathara thought about this speech for a moment. She couldn't help but feel it was a lie.

"Be that as it may," McGonagall lectured, "It was an extremely foolish thing to do. I would have expected more rational behavior on your part, and I am very disappointed in you, Ms. Granger. 5 points will be taken from Gryffindor for your serious lack of judgement. As for you two gentleman, I just hope you realize how fortunate you are. Not many first year students could take on a fully grown troll. 5 points will be awarded to each of you for sheer dumb luck." And she left, thankfully not noticing Nathara.

"Nathara," Quirrell whispered to her, cuing for her to come closer. Quirrell was about to lead Nathara somewhere, but Snape intervened.

"I will be taking Ms. Riddle, Professor Quirrell."

"Ah, yes of-of course."

Snape still didn't say anything to Nathara. Nathara looked over her shoulder to see Potter staring. His eyes fell down to Nathara's collarbone, and she quickly turned away. Almost as if it knew what Nathara was thinking, the silver snake that was always on Nathara's wrist inconspicuously latched itself onto Potter's robes. Nathara wanted to hear what Potter knew, and he was likely to discuss it with his friends. The snake will listen to everything.

Snape placed a firm, but surprisingly gentle hand on Nathara's shoulder, and leaded her to his office.

Once they were there, doors locked, Snape finally talked to Nathara, "Ms. Riddle."

"Yes, sir?"

He paused before saying, "You need to put dittany on that."

He turned around to open up a cupboard. He pulled out a vial filled with brownish liquid, and turned back to Nathara to put a few drops of the liquid on the cut from the dog. Immediately, the wound started to close back up, and after a few seconds, it disappeared almost completely.

"Thank you, sir."

"No need to mention it, Ms. Riddle."

They sat in a moment of silence before Nathara asked something.

"Sir, why-"

"Please don't ask questions, Ms. Riddle."

"Yes, sir."

Another pause, and Snape said, "That was an excellent performance, Ms. Riddle. Not many of my students would have been able to outsmart a vicious beast."

"Thank you, sir."

Nathara saw Snape flick his wand at Nathara. She felt disoriented for a moment, and her a little buzz in her head, a flash in front of her eyes, but it quickly went away. Snape flicked his wand again, and muttered something. _Legimens?_ Nothing happened.

"Sir, what are you-"

"Don't ask questions, Ms. Riddle," He paused again. It was starting to become a bit irritating. "You are very gifted at Occlumency, Ms. Riddle."

 _Occlumency?_

"I hope you make the right choices, Nathara," Snape said. "Good night."

"Make the right choices? What do you mean by that?"

"Good night, Nathara," Snape said, avoiding the question.

"Good night, sir," Nathara said, but still wanting to carry on with the conversation. Still, she traveled back to the dormitory.

 _The right choices?_

Nathara's intuition said that Snape wanted to say more. Nathara also felt like she knew what _the right choices_ were about. It was about her joining her father. But she was making the right choice.

 _It is the right choice._

 **A/N: Hey! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, bit longer than the previous. I definitely loved writing it! To all people who favorited/followed/reviewed, applause to you. You are motivation. You are one of the best parts of writing this story. Also, wanna know why Nathara likes chocolate? 'Cause I like chocolate.**

 **-Kat**


	13. Chapter 12: The Quidditch Match

_Disclaimer: I don't own Twenty One Pilots, or any of their songs. I also do not own Harry Potter, that belongs to our queen, JK Rowling_

Chapter 12: The Quidditch Match

After October, a dreadfully cold month that brought little light, came November. It's fall cheer spread around Hogwarts. Reds, oranges, and greens decorated the outside. However, it was much colder, colder than October. Frost decorated the windows, and the lake was frozen steel.

But, Nathara, with the help of some enchanted fire in a jar, frequently spent time outside. Nathara found that her favorite place outside was this one tree by the lake. She found the scent of the lake pleasing, and the tree, the towering tree, offered privacy from whoever the hell wanted to bother her, usually Gryffindors. Nathara also discovered that she could practice jinxes and curses at people when hidden in the branches, without the victim knowing where the spell came from. It was quite entertaining to see Longbottom running around the field with an angry black cat on top of his head.

But, with peace, brought...the opposite of peace. Even though Nathara was still one of his favorite students, who always complimented her brilliant work, Snape had a very close eye on Nathara and Quirrell ever since Halloween. He always just happened to appear at the door when Quirrell was talking privately to Nathara.

What Quirrell and Nathara were conversating about was not to be discussed anywhere else. Quirrell was furious about what happened on Halloween. He blamed all of it on Snape and Dumbledore, that they couldn't get past the three headed dog.

Nathara was still thinking about what Snape said that night: Make the right choices.

 _But what did right mean?_

Nathara thought that this, what she was already doing, was right. She would benefit from it the most. That meant it was the best choice.

 _But what other choices are there?_

No. This was all just unnecessary pondering and shit. Nathara was right, she was making the right choice, she was doing the right thing. But something way in the back of her mind told her it wasn't. That this was all just wrong, that it was evil, and vile, and cruel. Nathara ignored that. She didn't know how much she would regret that later.

* * *

It was breakfast time at the Great Hall. Pansy forced Nathara to come, because Nathara wouldn't have done so on her own. Nathara would much rather have been in the first floor girls bathroom, as the potion was complete, and Nathara could now use it. Or maybe Nathara could've been in one of the empty classrooms, playing with the snake 'bracelet' that she owned. And yes, she listened to what Potter and his friends knew about her.

 _"Riddle was bleeding, and Snape was too," Potter stated._

 _"Where are you going with this, Harry?" Granger asked._

 _"Listen, I think Snape and Riddle let the troll in as a diversion, so they could get past the three headed dog."_

 _"Why would anyone go near that dog?"_

 _"Well, the day I was at Gringotts, Hagrid took something from one of the vaults. He said it was very secret. That's what the dog's guarding. They want to steal it."_

Nathara almost laughed at this. Snape wanting to steal the Stone. He made it very clear on Halloween that he wanted to stop people from stealing the Stone. Potter didn't know about the Stone, he just knew something was being guarded by that monster, the three headed dog. Nathara would report that to Quirrell later.

"First Quidditch match!" Draco shouted in delight. "I'm so gonna beat Potter."

"And have you actually practiced anything, besides boasting that you will beat Potter?" Nathara said tauntingly.

"Of course I have," Draco assured. For some reason, Draco lightly blushed.

"Well, good luck. You need it," Pansy said.

"I don't need luck, I have skill. Right Nathara?" Draco asked.

"I believe that someone is right. That someone is Pansy," Nathara said.

Nathara noticed that Draco was blushing again.

"Psst, Draco!" Theo called to him.

"What?" he said.

Theo whispered something in Draco's ear.

"I don't," he whispered loudly.

Theo and the Slytherins that were with him quietly laughed. Nathara noticed that Pansy was with her gang of Slytherin girls, and they were giggling too.

Nathara watched them, "I actually do not know what is happening right now."

"I'm not telling you," Pansy stubbornly stated.

And for the rest of the morning, Nathara wondered what all this giggling was about.

* * *

It was unusually sunny outside today. According to Draco, perfect flying conditions. Clear skies and a small breeze were present. It was generally what you would call a good day.

The Quidditch stands were filled with people from all different houses, some cheering their own team, some booing the other. Almost everyone had a pair of binoculars, magical or not.

Draco begged Nathara to come to the Quidditch match. She liked Quidditch, but didn't want to go to the game for various reasons. But, Nathara was sick of Draco's whining, and she agreed to come.

Quidditch was simple to understand. There were seven players: Three chasers, two beaters, one keeper, and one seeker. Draco was the seeker, which meant he had to catch the Golden Snitch, a tiny ball that would score 150 points, and end the game. The chasers had to handle the Quaffle, a red leather ball. The chasers would throw the ball into one of the three hoops to score points, while the keeper guards the hoops. Honestly, Nathara didn't get why this was part of the game. Whoever caught the Snitch usually wins anyway. Then there are beaters, who use bats to hit black Bludgers at players.

"Welcome to the first match of the season! Sytherin vs Gryffindor!" Lee Jordan's voice echoed through the space.

Cheers came from all over, the Quidditch Pitch being very alive today.

"The Bludgers are released, followed by the Golden Snitch!"

The Snitch circled Draco and Harry. Draco had his usual smirk on his face.

"And Madam Hooch steps out onto the field to begin the game!"

"Now, I want a nice, clean game. From all of you," Madam Hooch said.

She tossed the Quaffle into the air, prompting the start of the game. Immediately, a Gryffindor took hold of the ball.

"And the Quaffle is taken by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor. A neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, back to Johnson-"

Nathara watched the blurs of red and green, green being even blurrier from their fast brooms.

"Slytherin has the Quaffle! Flint ducks that Bludger, close one, and he sco… nope stopped by Oliver Wood, fantastic keeper. Excellent move. Gryffindors take the Quaffle. Katie Bell of Gryffindor dives around Flint, up the field, and… ouch! Hit by a bludger from Slytherin. Slytherins are in possession of the Quaffle, Pucey speeding towards the goalposts. Blocked by another Bludger from Fred, no George, no Fred Weasley. Johnson has the Quaffle, dodges a bludger, and GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Applause came from the Gryffindors, jeers came from the Slytherins.

The commentary continued on like this. People getting the Quaffle, losing the Quaffle, getting hit by a Bludger. Not very exciting, for Nathara's taste. Well, at least until something rather odd happened.

Potter's broomstick looked like a wild bull. The broom was zigzaging, twisting, jerking in the air, and Potter had no control over it. Someone was cursing Potter's broomstick. Not that Nathara cared if he fell, no, but Nathara was curious to see who to cheer on.

Nathara scanned the crowd with her binoculars. She saw someone's lips chanting words that looked complex and complicated. It was Professor Snape. That couldn't be right. Professor Snape absolutely despised Potter, but he wouldn't go as far as killing Potter.

The binoculars searched a bit more. Professor Quirrell was also chanting something, but less noticeably. Yes, Professor Quirrell was cursing Potter's broom. Well, of course that would make sense, Quirrell worked for The Dark Lord, who's main goal was to kill Potter.

Nathara also spotted another thing. Snape's robes were suddenly on fire. This would've been more amusing if the fire spread to another person, but Nathara liked this Professor, and it would be desirable for him to not be burnt into a crisp.

Snape started to stomp the fire out, knocking over Quirrell. Then, Potter had control over his broom again. Great. Just really, really great.

Nathara turned back to watch the game.

"Is that the Snitch?" Lee Jordan spoke into his magical microphone.

Both Draco and Potter looked up at him at the same time. Also at the same time, they saw a glint of gold near the Gryffindor end of the field. The raced towards it.

Both boys had the same broom, so at this point, it was a contest of skill, which Nathara doubted Draco had enough of.

Potter and Draco were bumping into each other, trying to throw the opponent off course. They were rocketing towards the ground, and it looked like they were about to collide with it. But, Draco looked determined to catch the Snitch. They were almost at the ground, only five feet above the grassy floor.

CRASH

Draco was on the floor, and didn't get up. Madam Hooch raced over.

"Come on," Blaise, who was beside Nathara, said. He grabbed her hand to go help Draco. Nathara followed, not actually wanting to help with anything.

By the time they were at the ground, Potter looked like he was going to puke. The crowd braced themselves. Instead of that, Potter spit the Snitch out of his mouth.

"Is that allowed, Madam Hooch?" Nathara asked.

"Well, he did catch the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!" she shouted.

The Gryffindors loudly cheered while the Slytherins booed. Nathara didn't join the booing like Blaise did. She went over to Draco.

"Draco?"

A moan escaped his mouth.

"Well, I don't exactly think you beat Potter."

He said, sounding a bit slurred, but in a playful tone, "Shut up."

Madam Pomfrey suddenly appeared at Nathara's side, "Get out of the way, please. He needs to go to the Hospital Wing."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," said Nathara, and she stepped out of the way.

Nathara started to walk out of the Quidditch Pitch. She would probably visit Draco later.

As Nathara exited, another person caught up with her.

"Nath-thara."

The stuttering voice was recognizable as Quirrell's.

Nathara got straight to something she wanted to know. Making sure no one else was lingering around, Nathara asked, "Sir, did you tamper with Potter's broomstick?"

"Yes, I did," Quirrell answered. "I'm so sorry you weren't in on it. Professor Snape is watching, but you knew that."

"Yes. Also, I wanted to inform you on something. I have come to know that Potter is aware of our intentions, sir. Well, that is not exactly accurate. He does not know it is the Stone we are stealing, but he knows that _I_ am helping steal the it. Potter thinks that Professor _Snape_ is trying to steal it as well, sir," Nathara told.

She was always so tactful and delicate with words. So skillful, Quirrel noticed.

"We shall not worry about that. I don't think it's very likely that he'll stop us from success," Quirrell said.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I think-"

"And what, may I ask, are you doing here?" Snape, who randomly appeared, asked.

Quirrell spoke first, "I was j-just d-discussing a-a bit of today's l-lesson wit N-Nathara."

"Is that so?" Snape questioned.

Nathara spoke this time, "Yes, that is so, sir."

She was so convincing at lying too.

Snape stared into Nathara's eyes, but got a stone cold wall in return.

A skilled Occlumens, indeed.

"Hmph," Snape left.

"B-Best be o-off too."

And that left Nathara alone.

 **A/N: Heyyyy. This chapter is shorter than the others, but I hope you liked it just the same. Guys, we have 23 followers as of right now. AWESOME! Also 14 likes, 5 reviews. Thank you very much! 3. I think I am going to postpone the FBAWTFT story for now. Very concentrated on this one. But if you guys want me to write it, let me know. And just to let you know: I ponder of something great. My lungs will fill and then deflate. They fill with fire, exhale desire. I know it's dire my time today.**

 **-Kat**


	14. Chapter 13: The Start of Winter

Chapter 13: The Start of Winter

For the rest of November, Hogwarts went on like a normal wizarding school should. Students pranked their house rivals, dared each other to go into the Forbidden Forest, studied Transfiguration and Potions, and just behaved like the teenagers they were.

Slytherin had a major lead in house points, and they were likely to continue the six year streak for the house cup. The Slytherins broke rules, for the right reasons of course, but almost never got caught.

And Nathara never got caught most likely for one of these reasons: 1.) She could talk her way out 2.) she could magic her way out or 3.) no one even noticed.

Recently, no one ever noticed. Her invisibility potion was complete, and so she could sneak into parts of the castle that the average student was banned from. However, Nathara needed to use the potion wisely, because it would take ages to brew another batch. Nathara wished she could have this power without going through all the effort. It would be dreadfully tiring to make more of this potion every time she wanted to go into the restricted section of the library.

Speaking of the restricted section, Nathara successfully broke in once, and liked it far more than the regular space of the library. The restricted section held subjects that were so much more interesting and useful. There were fatal curses, gruesome potions, and deathly spells written in the pages of the books here. In Nathara's mind, it was _innovative._ So much you could _achieve_ with this knowledge. It was a shame that she had such a limited amount of visits there.

Well, past that, December came along. Pure, white snow drifted along the grounds of Hogwarts. Winter took the leaves of the trees, leaving bare towers of wood. The students were 99 percent sure that you could walk across the solid lake without the frosty ice cracking. The skies became paler, and grey, but it nicely complimented the beautiful winter scenery.

The students of Hogwarts decided to stay inside, rather than venture out into this frozen wonderland. It was just too cold. They tended to stay by the fires, and hated Potions class even more, because the temperature in the classroom was probably below zero.

But of course, the Slytherins still thrived when Potions came around. Especially for Nathara, who seemed to pick up some quite advanced skills over this winter.

In fact, as of one December day, the Slytherins were in Potions class right now.

They were brewing a new concoction up, unfortunately with the Gryffindors. But, Nathara seemed to be a bit angry with one of her fellow Slytherins.

"I feel do feel so sorry," Draco Malfoy said, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

Although Draco was looking at Harry Potter, Nathara pointed her wand at Draco.

"Anteoculatia."

Reindeer antlers sprouted from Draco's head, which resulted at the Gryffindors laughing, and some of the Slytherins, too.

Snape looked up from his book, and saw Nathara cast the spell. He seemed to give an understanding look towards her, and went back to his book.

Hermione Granger and Harry Potter also saw Nathara do this bit of magic. They looked shocked that the Slytherin would hex one of her 'friends,' especially since Draco and Nathara got along quite nicely, lately.

And yes, Nathara was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas.

Nathara glanced up at Draco, antlers still on his head, and him frantically trying to remove them.

Nathara carried on with her potion, not giving a damn about Draco for the rest of the class.

A few minutes later, class ended.

Draco sprinted out of the classroom, and another student rushed towards something as well.

"I just wanted to say that that was a good hex," Hermione Granger said to Nathara.

Nathara thought about why this Gryffindor would ever approach her, but nevertheless, Nathara replied with a polite, "Thank you."

Granger smiled, and Nathara felt her lips perk up a bit as well.

Despite this girl being a Gryffindor, a mudblood, and a painfully obnoxious know-it-all, Nathara said to her, "You're a brilliant witch, you know."

"You are as well, Nathara," Granger said.

"Thank you, Granger."

Nathara almost said "Hermione". She quickly decided not to. This girl was a mudblood, after all. Inferior, as Nathara was told.

"Well then, goodbye, Nathara. Oh, and merry Christmas."

"Goodbye, merry Christmas."

Hermi-Granger left, going the opposite direction to which Nathara planning to go.

She didn't seem that bad, actually.

Pansy didn't catch Nathara talking to-Hermione. It wouldn't have been a problem if she did, Nathara already formed an excuse in her head, but it was better that Pansy didn't see her and Hermione altogether.

Pansy was right behind Nathara now.

"Where did Drakey go?" Pansy asked.

"I believe he went to the hospital wing," Nathara answered.

"Oh, to get those antlers removed. I didn't see who hexed him. Do you know?"

"No, I didn't exactly catch it," Nathara lied, and as usual, incredibly convincing.

Pansy sighed, "Fine. Whoever hexed him will be dead once I find out."

Nathara chuckled, a bit menacingly, "Right. No one could ever hurt your little Drakey."

"Really? You think Drakey's mine?" Pansy asked with bright eyes, excitement clear in her voice.

"Sure, why not?"

Broadly smiling, Pansy rushed off somewhere, most likely the hospital wing. Nathara watched with kind of evil amusement, and she went to her intended destination: The library.

She climbed up the staircases, and walked through the twisting halls, not needing to think about which turns to take anymore. Soon, she was at the library.

Nathara wandered the Transfiguration section, looking for anything that could be interesting.

She usually would have been in a section with darker magic than this, but she currently had no reason to. The reason to go in the other section would've had something to do with Quirrell, but Quirrell and Nathara didn't have regular meetings like before. Quirrell had ordered Nathara to win Snape's trust. This meant that Quirrell and Nathara couldn't have these constant discussions about killing Harry Potter.

So Nathara was in the Transfiguration section. She walked along the rows and rows of books, looking for no title in particular. It was interrupted by some loud chatter from the aisle adjacent to the one she was in.

"You will keep looking over the holidays, won't you?" This was Hermione Granger. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

"Could you ask your parents if they know who Flamel is? It would be safe to ask them," Weasely suggested.

"Very safe. Both my parents are dentists."

Dentists? What was a dentist?

Well, there was something more important than that. They knew Flamel. Interesting, very interesting.

* * *

Later that day, Nathara couldn't sleep. It was almost midnight, and Nathara just couldn't sleep. So, she found herself sitting in the soft, cushy chair near the fireplace. She found herself here a lot, actually.

She was staring at an unlit fireplace, no complex thoughts going through her head, for once. Then why couldn't she sleep?

She was just sitting here, her chin resting on her hand, silver-green eyes staring into this unlit fire. It was as if time was frozen still. Nothing.

Until a set of quiet thumps came from the boys dormitory stairs. A voice said, "Lumos."

It was Draco, she could tell. He spoke again, "Nathara?"

"Yes?"

With the wand tip guiding him, he went over to where Nathara was sitting, and sat down on the same chair. It was big enough for two people, anyway.

"It was you who hexed me, wasn't it?" Draco said.

"So, what if it was?" Nathara returned.

Draco hesitated, "Well...did I say something?"

"You might have."

In the silence, Nathara could see that Draco was trying to remember something that might've been offensive.

"Are you staying at Hogwarts for Christmas?" he finally realized.

"Well, you did say that you felt so sorry for all the people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas, because they're not wanted at home. Why would you care?" Nathara said, sounding indifferent and cold. But that wasn't new.

Silence greeted them again. Draco opened his mouth a few times, but closed it again, not sure how to respond. It wasn't like Nathara Riddle made it easy to come up with something to say.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Nathara" Draco said, struggling, as if it was one of the hardest things to do.

Nathara didn't say anything.

Though not very confident, Draco's arm snaked around Nathara's shoulders. Nathara took her chin off her hand after the hour of sitting there, and placed them in her lap. She usually would've felt uncomfortable in this position, but currently, she didn't, because most of her attention was drawn to Draco.

She looked at his face, which was showing this weird emotion that Nathara wasn't able to classify.

Draco took a deep breath, and even though it wasn't, he said, "Merry Christmas, Nathara."

Although Nathara was very close to Draco, a bit too close for her taste, his arm still draped around her shoulder, Nathara didn't hear it. She was asleep.

* * *

The holidays started. Not many of Nathara's Slytherin classmates stayed at Hogwarts. Only one other first year was present, Theodore Nott, but Nathara had no reason to talk to him. Which Nathara preferred, actually. Nathara heard from Pansy who heard from Padma who heard from Parvati who heard from Dean that Harry Potter was remaining at Hogwarts.

Nathara would've rather had this not happen, because, let's just say that Nathara had some business to take care of, and she didn't want The Boy Who Lived sticking his nose in it.

Right now, it was breakfast time, and Nathara only attended breakfast, because Pansy gave her a rather threatening warning before the holidays. Sure, Nathara could hex her to death, but she chose to play along.

Nathara was at the Slytherin table by herself, eating a muffin.

The Great Hall was lined with towering Christmas trees, decorated with golden tinsel and snowflakes. The ceiling was sending enchanted snow down, that melted before it reached the floor. The hall felt a shade brighter than normal, which Nathara secretly enjoyed.

"Hey, Nathara?" Theo, who was now near Nathara, said.

"Yes?"

"Look," he nodded over to the Gryffindor table, where the two Weasley twins were sitting, heads together, staring down at a roll of parchment. "What do you reckon they're up to?"

"A prank. I think it is all that those two Weasels do. I don't suppose that you are suggesting their next trick will be on us?"

Theo shrugged, "Maybe."

"Hey, Riddle!" they suddenly shouted to her.

She rolled her eyes as they came over, and pulled her to the Gryffindor table.

"Haven't I made it clear that-" Nathara started but got cut off.

"Yeah, yeah. That we're two idiots-"

"And you want to jinx us into oblivion."

They were taking turns speaking, and finished each others' sentences. It was a bit amusing, Nathara had to admit.

"But hear this-"

"We need your help."

"We really do."

Nathara considered this. It could play out fun so, "What do you need me to assist you with?"

"We need you to think of the darkest spell you can-"

"And cast it in this bottle-"

One of them held up a glass bottle that was supposed to be for butterbeer. But, this bottle seemed to have a faint glow, and the glass was foggy.

"Might I ask why?" Nathara inquired.

"Well-"

"We have our own-"

"Special purposes," they chorused together.

"I could do that, I daresay. However, you would need to give me something in exchange," Nathara offered.

"Anything," they said desperately.

"Cast the darkest spell you can in a glass bottle? I do hope it's charmed properly. Adducam Mala Fortuna," Nathara chanted while pointing her wand at inside the vessel.

Quickly, one of the Weasels scrambled to put the cap on the bottle. You could see black smoke spiraling ominously inside it.

The two smiled stupidly, then actually used their brain,"Can we ask-"

"What the spell does?" they queried.

Smirking a bit, Nathara answered, "Well, whoever gets hit by it will not be having such a great day. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

The Weasley twins looked on edge, now that Nathara was being so sly and elusive and mysterious.

"But it doesn't-"

"Kill anyone or anything-"

"Right?"

"Of course not," Nathara swiftly confirmed.

"Hmm," the Weasels studied Nathara's face, checking if this was legitimate information. They concluded it (probably) was.

"Well-"

"Thanks!"

"If you need anything-"

"Just ask!"

"Pleasure doing business with you," they said together.

"Pleasure," Nathara said, still with a smirk on her face, the one Mr. Borgin would use if he was in a situation like this.

The Weasels went back to staring at their paper, now eagerly scribbling notes down with their quills.

 _Anything,_ they said. Nathara noted that.

* * *

The rest of that day was filled with the library, hot chocolate, playing with fire, walking on the Black Lake, and lobbing bewitched snowballs at anyone Nathara or Theo deemed annoying. The day was relaxing, care free, a contrast to the majority of this school year.

Right now, Nathara was hanging out in the Great Hall, talking about the Ministry with some older Slytherins. They were so much better to have an intellectual conversation with than the other students in her year. These Slytherins fed off each others charm and wit, making it the best discussions they had with other people.

Until the Weasley twins appeared so abruptly, they could've Apparated.

"Hello folks!"

"D'ya mind if we just-"

They forcibly took Nathara by the arm and dragged her over to the Gryffindor table, despite the angry insults from the Slytherins.

Nathara was unhappy about this, "What are you-"

"Hey, Harry!" one of the twins called.

"What?" he said.

"Look who we found!"

"The Slytherin Princess!"

 _Slytherin Princess?_ It didn't sound like such a bad title, in fact.

"Oh, come on Harry-"

"Didn't you want to talk to-"

"The Slytherin Princess?"

Harry paused, "...I…er… really didn't…you see-"

"Oh, come on Potter. You wanted to talk to the Slytherin Princess?" Nathara challenged.

"Yeah, kinda," he said, unsure.

"So what is it you have been dying to tell me?" Nathara asked.

"I haven't been _dying_ to tell you, actually," Potter objected.

"Oh, so just a casual urge then?"

"Well..." he trailed off.

Nathara glared into his emerald green eyes, and came to the conclusion, "Granger told you to do that, didn't she? Please kindly tell her it did not work, and that she should go at the attempt from a new angle next time."

And Nathara strolled back to the Slytherins.

 _Hermione._ Nathara and her had chatted here and there, but not too friendly, because Nathara still believed the blood prejudice. Hermione had expressed more than once that Potter and Nathara should be friends. You can't just kill someone's father and be friends! It didn't fucking work like that. Maybe if it did, the world would be different. But it wasn't. That's what Nathara believed. For now, anyway.

 **A/N: Hey. So, I hope you enjoyed. I might be posting this on Wattpad as well, or if you want me to post on FictionPress, just tell me. I loooove you guys more reading my story, so thank you! Also, regarding the word fuck, you can put it any fuckingwhere, and it will still make fucking sense. Anyways, check out the disclaimer I put on the last chapter, because siriusly, |-/, m8.**

 **-Kat**


	15. Chapter 14: A New Tower

Chapter 14: A New Tower

Today, Nathara woke up at about six-thirty, like a normal person, for once. She slipped out of the silver and green sheets, and stood up. She faced an empty room, with no one from her dorm staying for the holidays. It was desired, actually.

Nathara changed into something more suitable for the day, then made her way to the common room with less distraction then ordinary.

Walking up the stone stairs that lead to the common room, Nathara remembered the date. December 25th. Christmas. Smiling in her mind (but not showing that on her face, of course), Nathara walked up the steps to the common room.

She found that there would be no one to disrupt the silence this morning, her house mates were probably still asleep. Good. Nathara enjoyed the sound of silence much more than anything else.

Now feeling fully awake after a few minutes, Nathara spotted a Christmas tree over in the corner of the common room, near the bookshelves. Nathara walked over to it.

The tree looked just like the ones in the Great Hall, except smaller. There were piles of gifts under the tree, all ranging in size. And, the piles were sorted by the recipient of the gifts. Nathara saw that one pile belonged to Theo, another belonged to Gemma, who chose to stay at Hogwarts this year. After more searching, Nathara found one addressed to herself.

She was surprised that anyone would send her gifts, even if she sent a couple to other people. Pleased, Nathara settled down on a nearby black chair to open these.

There was a thin, rectangular box nearest Nathara. That was from Pansy, Nathara already knew. The school gossiper wasn't the best at keeping secrets, so naturally, she knew that Pansy gave her chocolate.

Another box was hidden under the tree. It was jet black, and small enough to fit in the palm of Nathara's hand. There was a weird inscription on it, an ancient rune, maybe. Nathara started to unwrap it. A note slipped out of the box just as she did that. It simply said, "To Nathara, from Draco." Draco. Nathara then fully opened the box. She did the closest thing to actually smiling as she saw the gift. It was a silver ring, engraved with the initials N.R, with a picture of a snake encircling it. Nathara got Draco a gift as well. A silver ring, engraved with the initials D.M, with a picture of a dragon encircling it.

Nathara slipped the ring on, and remarked that the ring matched perfectly with her bracelet.

"He really does, doesn't he?"

Nathara was startled by the sudden voice, but didn't jump. She only turned around to find the source of the voice. Theodore Nott.

"Oh. Everyone is usually more alarmed when I do that," he said, disappointed.

"Well you see, people should usually make a bit of an introduction when they appear in a room," Nathara pointed out.

"It's more fun my way," he protested.

"Your call, then," Nathara said.

"So he really does, doesn't he?" Theo repeated.

"Does? What do you mean by that?" Nathara questioned, curious.

Theo didn't reply. Nathara followed his gaze, which landed on the ring she was wearing.

"Are you referring to Draco?" Nathara guessed.

Theo still didn't reply, but she noticed how his lips perked up a tad.

"You are," Nathara concluded. "May I ask again what you mean by 'he does'?"

"For the most brilliant student in our year, you're quite clueless at stuff like this, aren't you?" Theo finally said.

"If I was not, I would not be asking these questions," said Nathara.

"I'm not telling you," he stubbornly refused.

Nathara glared at him. He bit his lip, then turned to open his presents.

Nathara turned to open the rest of her gifts as well. One was a medium-sized chest. It had a withered, old look, almost like what some weird wizards and witches brought in to Borgin and Burkes to sell.

On this chest, there was an envelope on top, secured by some SpelloTape. Nathara unstuck it from the chest, and unsealed it. There was a letter inside. Nathara began to read:

 _Nathara,_

 _I know you do not know much about your mum. I have no idea what you've learned about your father._ -Here was a scribbled out sentence that Nathara couldn't read.- _I've had these for a long time. I think you should have a look at them now. -_ Another scribbled out sentence.-

 _Sincerely, A. Opal_

The crossed out sentences took up most of the space on the paper. That was odd. But, to address the matters on who this was from. Aunt Opal.

Opal had never given anything to Nathara for Christmas. Nathara was fine with that. The two had an unspoken agreement: On Christmas, they would have nothing to do with each other.

But now…

Nathara pondered this before taking a look at the chest.

It wasn't like _Opal_ ever changed.

But now…

Nathara opened the rustic chest.

Silence. Theo had left now, leaving Nathara in this moment. She was in complete...whatever this feeling was.

The chest contained an assortment of objects, some old and withered, and others looking brand new. There were two magical photo books, three rings, a broken wand, a few quills, and a circular, onyx colored locket with the constellation of Aries on the front.

Nathara stared at it for a while, took it all in. This was the first time she had something from her mother, well besides her Gringotts money and the other thing she knew about.

Nathara stared at the contents of the chest with many emotions that never appeared. There was this feeling of light headed-ness, a feeling of wonder, the one that came with butterflies, and something else. Actually, a lot that she would never be able to describe. It wasn't exactly her strongest spot.

Nathara picked up one of the rings first. It had some words carved into it, but it wasn't English. Maybe Latin. In caritate perpetua. Nathara wasn't sure what that meant.

She moved on to the next object, careful with holding it, as if it could break in a matter of seconds. She took one of the books.

On the cover, a picture of a snake was slithering around. The rest of the cover was a faded green with grey accents.

On edge, Nathara opened the book.

The first thing was a picture of a young woman, maybe in her twenties. She had long, flowing black hair, and silver green eyes. They looked just like Nathara's.

In the picture, the woman waved at Nathara. The woman was smiling broadly. It was such a contrast to the one Nathara remembered six years ago.

 _Flash_

 _The girl was walking down the hall. Those weird people were shouting at her while the Auror said to move along. It was unnatural that the girl radiated confidence and charm, especially since she was five. Especially since she was in a place like this. However, with each step, it seemed like something died, just a little. It seemed like death was a thing that lurked around the corners of this place._

 _Azkaban, the girl heard it was called._

 _And maybe death did lurk around the corners._

 _A dark, hooded figure glided past the girl and the Auror. The girl whimpereda a bit. She knew she shouldn't do that. It was a weakness, as one of those wizards down that fascinating alley said. Mr Borgin, wasn't it?_

 _But she couldn't help it. It was as if life disappeared in the blink of a_ _silver green_ _eye._

 _"What am I doing," the Auror muttered, quite loudly so, "taking the little dark lord here?_ _It's a shame I can't throw you into a cell, like you deserve._ _"_

 _And the Auror tripped. But, there wasn't anything to trip over. There was, however, the girl glaring at him. She was five, but still had an evil expression when she chose to._

 _The Auror pushed her, hard, but she didn't fall down. The Auror grunted._

 _"Here," the Auror nudged the girl again, but she still didn't stumble. She was at a cell with a woman inside. The woman had mangled black hair, and dreadfully empty silver green eyes. But the emptiness disappeared when she saw the girl._

 _"Oh," the woman gasped._

 _She wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter, not ever wanting to let go. The girl stood there, not embracing back, but her head on the woman's shoulder. The woman started to cough…_

No.

Nathara took a deep breath with her eyes closed. She breathed out, then opened them. She had on a stone cold expression now. The one that helped her get away with anything. The one that always adorned her face.

Not thinking about the memory, Nathara turned to the next page of the book.

Here was another person. A guy who had dark hair, dark eyes, and an elegantly carved face. This was Tom Riddle, Nathara knew. Voldemort, her father. He was not smiling, though. It was one of those looks that Nathara always had on her face. Quite literally always, no matter what. Ice cold, but incredibly attractive. That wasn't shocking at all. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, as they say.

Nathara smirked, just because. She placed the book back into the chest, planning to check the rest of the items later.

There was one thing left. A small, velvet drawstring bag. Nathara took it. Its weight wasn't very heavy. In fact, it was very light. It couldn't have contained more than one small trinket. Interested, Nathara untied the bag, and glanced into the bag.

Inside was a folded piece of parchment, and two vials filled with two shiny, light blue potions. _Invisibility potions._

 _Well, thank you, whoever this is from,_ Nathara thought.

Startlingly, Nathara heard a _you're welcome_ by a voice inside her brain. It wasn't the voice that came in her mind when deep in thought. This felt like it was an outside force penetrating her head, but all it could do was say _you're welcome._

But that was what made magic, especially in forms like this, so intriguing. So _powerful._

Immersed in this wonderful view, Nathara unfolded the parchment, narrowly smiling. She started to read spiky handwriting. It didn't say much. It only read:

 _N.R,_

 _Seventh floor corridor, first corner right, behind the statue, up the ladder. You will know what to do from there._

 _-S.S_

S.S? Nathara immediately deciphered the initials. Severus Snape.

 _Yes,_ the voice in her head said.

Nathara brought her hand up to her head. She suddenly had a splitting headache. She lowered her hand. The voice sounded familiar. It was a deep, bored drawl. It was Severus Snape's voice. What was he doing?

Something flashed in front of her eyes, a memory of this necklace in Borgin and Burkes, but it was gone in a fraction of a second.

 _Occlumens,_ Snape's voice said.

Nathara still hadn't found out what that was. Well that's okay. She had more invisibility potion, and some other stuff. Regarding the location written on the paper, she had never been there.

She started to magic her gifts back to her dorm. However, she got distracted by the old trunk with all the items that her mother had owned. Nathara felt a strange, new feeling burning in her chest The same one when she looked at the photo book. She did not like it.

She did not know it was called love. It faded away.

The Great Hall was buzzing as usual, despite the lack of students. It was dinnertime at Hogwarts, and Nathara had honestly never had a Christmas dinner as good as this. The food was piled in high mountains, and tasted significantly better than normal. And in the spirit of Christmas, wizard crackers were placed along the table. Nathara and a third year named Kyro were enchanting them with different hexes and jinxes, so he could pull them over people's heads. Mostly the Gryffindors were getting showered with mice or snakes or whatever other small creatures. Nathara was chuckling when some spiders landed on the head of the youngest Weasley.

"Hey look, she can actually laugh," Theo teased.

Nathara, without even looking at him, sent a jelly legs jinx his way. She chuckled wickedly again. "Yes, apparently I can."

"Hey Slytherin Princess!"

It was the two Weasels again. They sprinted over to the Slytherin table, grabbed Nathara's wrist, then ran back to the Gryffindor table.

"Okay, we get that you virtually hate us-"

"And that you hate us more for dragging you here so often."

Nathara interrupted by saying, "Yes, I am glad you used your heads for once, and figured that out. I will leave now."

"WAIT!" they both shouted as Nathara turned on her heel.

They held her arm to prevent her from leaving.

"Yes, Weasels?"

"You can call us-"

"Fred-"

"And George-"

"Or Gred-"

"And Forge."

"Fred and George, then," Nathara said. "I do not see the point in you two dragging me over here all the time."

"It's more fun that way," they answered.

"Fred, George!" a different ginger shouted.

It was Ron Weasley. He looked evidently angry that his brothers were actually talking to the Slytherin Princess.

"Why are you talking to her?" he interrogated.

"Well-"

"We were just-"

"Er-"

"Just discussing some matters on these new spells. Purely business related, so it would be preferable if you minded your own," Nathara shot, but just sounding so swift. Snakelike, almost.

The Weasel growled, "Why her?"

He stomped back over to his friend, Potter.

"That went well," one of the twins, George?, commented.

Nathara sarcastically agreed, "Oh yes, very well."

It was almost midnight. However, the castle was still quite alive. The Gryffindors were most likely outside, having a snowball fight, the Slytherins and Ravenclaws in their common rooms with a book or other, and the Hufflepuffs doing...what Hufflepuffs do. The staff were in the Great Hall still. But, no one was in the corridors.

It was the perfect time to _explore_ the castle. Nathara had memorized the place Snape wrote on the parchment, and was prepared to go there. She didn't take the invisibility potion, and only planned to if she ran into any complications. She had a clear path to get to wherever.

"Okay," she muttered to nothing once outside the common room.

It only took two minutes to run into an event unplanned.

"Ah, M-Ms. Riddle."

Nathara used a charming tone that she was using more often lately, "Hello, sir. How are you doing this evening?"

"S-Spectac-cular. Well, g-goodbye, Ms. Ri-Riddle," he said, fake stuttering. He slipped past Nathara, 'accidentally' dropping a piece of paper into her bag.

Nathara read it quickly, now forming another plot. But right now, she needed to get to wherever.

That was the only happening that was out of place. The rest of her journey went undisturbed. She got to the seventh floor, made a right at the first corner, and ended up at a statue. She tapped it with her wand, and she got the reaction she expected. The statue of an owl fluttered out of the way, leaving an opening with a ladder on the other side. She climbed it.

Now, Snape assumed she knew what she was doing. She didn't. Nathara absolutely hated that.

After climbing the ladder, Nathara found a platinum colored door. It opened easily, sure, but Nathara wasn't clear on what would happen next.

She walked through the door frame, and was in a room that illuminated itself straightaway.

That was anticlimactic.

It was a circle shaped tower, bookshelves lining the walls. There were desks in front of the bookshelves. A Hogwarts tapestry hung on the wall, as well as portraits of the Hogwarts. On the dark wooden floor, there was a simple black rug. There was a large window showing a breathtaking view of the school. Everything was covered in a layer of dust.

Nathara studied the room. It had a historic vibe to it, like great things took place here.

Unexpectedly, a large book zoomed out of one of the shelves. It stopped in front of Nathara. It shook like it was about to explode, but instead, it opened to an empty page.

Nothing was writing on it, but ink came into sight on the paper.

 _Welcome to the Founders' Tower. Who are you?_

 _"_ Nathara Riddle," she said aloud, amazed at this new discovery.

 _Nathara Riddle, Heiress of Slytherin?_

 _"_ Yes."

 _Feel free to explore anytime._

"Thank you."

The book zipped back to its original shelf.

The Founders' Tower. There was a lot to explore, but Nathara could come back anytime. She had another destination in mind to go to. The library. Yes, it seemed mundane that she was going there so often, but she had a reason. Quirrell.

 **A/N: Hey. As usual, hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'd really love some feedback on my writing, like pacing, characterization, overall story. It would be the best, actually. Thanks to you guys for the support! I will keep the updating consistent, promise. And in caritate perpetua means everlasting love. Now you don't have to go on Google Translate.**


	16. Chapter 15: Mirror of Erised

Chapter 15: Mirror of Erised

Silently, Nathara creeped along the rows of bookshelves in the Restricted Section of the library. A dim light from her wand was glowing, the only source of illumination in the dark room. She had her wand in her right hand, and a sharp eye looking out for any disturbance.

Nathara proceeded cautiously. It almost felt like someone was following her. She swiftly glanced behind her, but no one seemed to be present. She continued down the row of bookshelves. She checked behind her again. No one was there, but she could have sworn she heard the sound of faint footsteps. It was getting irritating now.

 _Thump._

A book fell from one of the shelves. Nathara heard someone gasp. She quickly turned around. There was still no one in sight, but a book with a leather cover was open on the floor. She slowly walked over to it. The first words on the page it was open to had something to do with magical gems and stones. Nathara couldn't help skimming over the rest of the page, finding the subject quite captivating. She stopped herself a few paragraphs later, refocusing on what she had to do.

She fitted the book back onto the shelf it came from, then went on. Her eyes grabbed the attention of another thing. From the gaps in the books on the shelves, Nathara saw that another light was lit. This light was a row over, and it didn't seem to be supported by anything. It just looked like a floating lantern.

"I know you're here," a voice growled.

The floating lantern suddenly dropped, and cracked, followed by frantic footsteps. Nathara watched Filch appear, his cat following behind him. Filch grumpily marched over to the lantern to observe it.

Nathara stayed hidden behind the shelves. However, Filch's cat somehow appeared next to Nathara. The bloody thing was like a ghost. It was just right near Filch a few moments ago, wasn't it?

The cat stared at Nathara with its red eyes. Nathara stood completely still, not moving an inch. She was actually unnaturally calm for this situation. That was odd for a normal person. Ha, like Nathara Riddle was normal at all.

The cat was still staring at Nathara, and Nathara then realized how creepy cats were. The cat stood as still as a statue, which made Nathara think it was okay to move. She took a step away from the cat. The cat screeched as loud as hell, then pounced on Nathara's foot.

"Seriously, that is much too loud for a library," Nathara muttered.

She tried to shake the cat off her foot, but it would not let go.

"Who's there?" Filch called as he sprinted over.

Nathara was still trying to remove the cat from her leg, but decided against it. She would be dead if Filch saw her harming his precious cat. Filch stomped to where Nathara was. He picked up the cat with ease, and turned, glaring, to Nathara.

"And what are you doing out of bed?"

"Sir, I do have a teacher's permission to be here," Nathara said, radiating charm, and just a bit of arrogance.

"Well, why don't ya prove it?" Filch snarled.

Nathara nodded politely, taking a note out of her pocket. Filch snatched it out of her hands.

 _I hereby give Nathara Riddle permission to be in the Restricted Section,_

 _Signed, Prof. Quirrell_

"Well, as we can see, sir-" Nathara started, but Filch cut her off.

"It's a fake," Filch claimed.

"I can assure you that it isn't, sir."

"It is!" he shouted.

He grabbed Nathara by the wrist, and dragged her over to a new corner of the library.

"It's time to test where your loyalties lie, Quirrell."

In this corner, there were two professors: Snape and Quirrell. There seemed to be a conflict in between the two. Filch interrupted their dispute.

"Professor Quirrell, Riddle tells me that you gave her permission to be here. Is that true?"

"Y-Yes," he nodded.

Filch was clearly disappointed by that. But, he had another thing to present.

"This," he held up a lantern, "found it in the Restricted Section. It's still hot. There's another student out of bed."

Nathara studied it. That was the same lantern that was floating by a few moments ago. Strange.

Snape looked at Quirrell, who looked at Nathara. And they all ran.

Quirrell pulled Nathara over to the side.

"Thank you for coming, Nathara, but it seems my plan has failed. I'll give you details of our next event later," Quirrell hastily rushed.

"Sir, I do not get why-"

"I'll explain everything later," Quirrell said. And he paced to the exit.

Nathara hated that. She started to exit as well, but someone showed up behind her.

"Ms. Riddle," Snape said.

"Yes, sir?" Nathara asked, still with charm and a hint of arrogance.

"Come with me," Snape ordered.

And she did so. They walked over to another dark corner of the library.

"Quirrell wanted you here?" he questioned.

"Yes, sir." Nathara answered.

"Do you know why?"

"I cannot say that I do, sir. But, believe me, I would prefer to know," Nathara said.

Snape sighed. Nathara look at his eyes.

"Sir, that note you gave me. I would like to thank you for that, firstly. But also, I have a bit of an- inquiry, let's say. The note, was it a distraction for me not to come? Because currently, I think it is," Nathara said.

"Maybe so, Nathara. May I ask how you came to that conclusion?" Snape said, slightly shocked, but also annoyed.

Nathara shrugged, "Intuition. Does that mean you _did_ leave the note purpose?"

"Yes, if you must know," Snape anwered.

Snape stared at her in the eyes. He got an empty, silver-green wall out of that.

"Occlumens," Snape murmured under his breath.

"Occlumens. I do not know what that means. Can you tell me, sir?" Nathara questioned.

"You'll find out soon enough," Snape refused.

Nathara inwardly frowned at that. She couldn't find any resources on the matter in the library. But then again, there were so many books in the Founders Tower.

"Why didn't you want me to come?" Nathara asked.

"Why do you ask to many questions?" he asked.

"Knowing information is desirable," Nathara replied, "but if you don't wish to say…"

"I don't."

"Okay, then."

 _What kind of eleven year old was this?_ Snape thought. And without notice, or another word to Nathara, he exited the library.

Now Nathara was seemingly by herself in the library. And the first thing she did was take a trip to the Restricted Section again.

The library was silent, well, more silent than typical hours. It was also as dark as the sky outside, so very dark. Nathara only kept a dim light glowing with her wand, just in case Filch or his stupid cat showed up again.

Nathara must've taken a wrong turn at some point, because the endless rows of books were no longer present. Instead, she was facing a door. She looked behind her. Twisting towers of paper bound together with no light. She looked in front of her. A door that could lead to who knows where. She chose to open the door.

It was locked.

"Alohamora," Nathara pointed her wand at the door. It unlocked, which seemed almost too simple. It was.

The room was empty, basically. It was also dark, maybe just a bit brighter from the moonlight streaming through the window. There was a mirror in the center of the room. There was also a boy with dark, messy hair, a small frame, and emerald green eyes. Harry Potter, who unfortunately noticed Nathara's presence.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"A bit of exploring, and it appears you are doing the same as well."

Nathara's eyes shifted to the mirror. There was a weird inscription at the top. _Erised_ _stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

If that was a real language, it must have been ancient. Nathara couldn't understand it at all.

Nathara's eyes wandered around the room. They landed on something that was near Potter's feet.

"That is an invisibility cloak, Potter. How did you get one?" Nathara asked, concealing her amazement for such a priceless object.

"It was a gift," he said.

"A gift?" Nathara questioned further.

"Yeah, a gift," Potter confirmed.

Nathara was suspicious. Who would give a rare artifact to an inept person who barely knew how much it was worth? And also, how did this conversation go on without anyone shouting insults or throwing jinxes? Oh wait…

"You owled Hermione, Potter?" Nathara concluded.

"Er… maybe," he said.

"Maybe?"

He nodded, and turned around to face the mirror behind him. She seemed so fascinated with it, like he's never seen his own reflection for.

"It is not like your reflection is that intriguing, Potter," Nathara remarked.

He didn't seem to hear that. He was still staring intently at the mirror. Nathara walked over to see what was so amazing.

Potter shifted out of the way once he saw Nathara approaching.

"Just stand right there," he instructed.

"I do not get what this is supposed to be, Potter," Nathara said.

"Just trust me," he said, looking at Nathara in the eye.

And Nathara stood directly in front of the mirror. She gazed into it.

Something appeared. A woman with long, dark hair, and silver green eyes. The woman was behind Nathara, and another person appeared. He had pale skin, jet black hair, and dark eyes. It was Tom Riddle, before he was Lord Voldemort. And the woman was Nathara's mother.

She placed a hand on Nathara's shoulder. Nathara felt for it. It wasn't actually there. But in the mirror's reflection, it was.

The woman held her hand out. Without thinking, Nathara held her hand out too. Both stretched out their hands to hold the other. It wasn't long until Nathara's hand came in contact with cold glass. Nathara glanced up to see her mother again. The two pairs of eyes that were so similar met.

But Nathara quickly looked back down, and shook her head.

"It is not real," she stated.

"What did you see?" Potter asked.

"I don't suppose it matters."

"I think it does," Potter said.

"I honestly do not care what you think," Nathara said icily.

"What's the dog guarding?" Potter asked out of the blue.

"Sorry?" Nathara said.

"What's the dog guarding?" He repeated.

"I do not know what it is you are talking about," Nathara lied. It would've convinced other people, but unfortunately, Potter knew for sure Nathara was involved in this shit.

"You do know, Riddle," Potter said.

"And so I do."

"Can you tell me?"

"No. It does not make sense I that if I were to give that information to you. Well, goodbye then," Nathara said icily, leaving Potter with no new knowledge.

And Nathara left, catching a last glimpse at Potter still staring at the mirror.

 _Erised_ _stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

* * *

It took nearly fifteen minutes for Nathara to get back to the common room. Not because she got lost, but because she decided to check out a few books from the Restricted Section on the way. Once she was in the comforts of the common room, she took a seat near the fireplace, not feeling like she needed to sleep. So she just sat by the fireplace, which was lit this time, reading a book about Potions, and testing a few spells with her wand. She also had _Erised_ _stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_ on her mind, and she still remembered precisely how it was spelled. She wrote it down in one of the margins of her book, wanting to decipher it later.

Just in the middle of an attempt to Stupefy the closest thing in the room, a letter appeared at her feet, followed by a greyish owl, Sterling.

"How did you get down here?" Nathara questioned the creature.

It gave a little hoot in response.

"Go," Nathara commanded it, and it fluttered off.

Nathara picked up the letter. It said in red ink, _Forbidden Forest, you'll know when._

It was Quirrell's handwriting, Nathara as far as Nathara was aware. She was also aware of another thing that was looming in the back of her mind. She hated cats.

 **A/N: Hey people! Sorry for not posting on the weekend this time. Was a bit busy with a project that will remain confidential. Also, I changed one sentence in the last chapter. Wanna play a game of find it? Maybe? Well, thanks for reading and enjoying, lel. Cya later! .**

 **-Kat**


	17. Chapter 16: Dumbledore

Chapter 16: Dumbledore

There was something suspicious about that mirror. Nathara was still trying to figure out what that weird message meant, and how the mirror showed her parents.

Nathara was still in the common room, fiddling with her wand, trying to see what she could do with it. She didn't feel tired at all, and she could also tell, by the frozen patches of ice in the lake, that the Weasley twins weren't either were still snowball fighting outside. It was almost 3 a.m.

She was blankly staring at the ceiling now, pondering magic theories and if they would get herself killed or not. She did not want to do anything stupid that could get herself killed, unlike the Weasley twins, probably.

But Nathara couldn't focus on that. She was more focused on that mirror. Potter should've left by now. Maybe….

Nathara got up from the chair she had been sitting on. She grabbed her already packed bag and headed out of the common room.

"Where are you going?" a voice asked from behind her.

Nathara paused her movement, then swiftly turned around. She saw a wiry boy with mouse brown hair standing there. His look challenged hers, and they glared intensely and each other.

"I do not think that that would be of absolute importance to you. In other words, stop being a snitch, and leave me alone," Nathara confronted him.

"I'm not a snitch, 'thara," Theo opposed. He then realized it was a mistake calling the her 'thara, hinted by the increase of intensity in her glare.

"Ice cold snake," Theo muttered.

"Thank you," Nathara said upon hearing that.

"So, where are you going again?"

"The library."

"Library? Can't you just wait until tomorrow to check out that dark arts book?"

"It was not a dark arts book."

"It was."

"Not."

Theo paused, then sighed, "Well, see you. I'm too tired for this shit."

"Well, I am not," Nathara said.

"Of course you're not," Theo agreed.

He sleepily walked back to the boys dormitory, and Nathara started to walk as soon as she heard the door to the boys' dormitory slam shut. And Nathara started to venture down the same route she always took to get to the library.

Once out of the dungeons, she traveled up the grand staircases to get to the first floor. Halfway through the journey, she ran into some unexpected company.

"Look here George-"

"What's that Fred?"

"The Slytherin Princess."

"Shouldn't we tell a teacher?"

"I think we should."

Nathara intervened, "I think I should perhaps inform Professor McGonagall about your little snowball fight."

The twins exchanged glances. It was like they were reading each others' minds. They probably were. They turned back to Nathara.

"Keep our secret-"

"We'll keep yours."

They both reached out a hand for Nathara to shake.

"Deal," she said, without shaking their hand.

They grinned mischievously, and raced up the grand stairs to get to a particular painting, while Nathara continued walking, going left.

It was strange that you could find so many people awake at about three in the morning. She should maybe mention that to her fellow Slytherins when they said that four o' clock was too early to wake up.

Anyway, left. That was where the library was, almost everyone knew that, excluding some ignorant Gryffindors. She walked up to the grand doors of the room, opening them slowly. Nathara found the library pitch black, exactly as it was before. She couldn't see anything, not even that weird section on constellations, which always appeared to be glowing.

She proceeded cautiously, deeper into the rows and rows of books. Thinking nobody was there, Nathara illuminated her wand tip, but not as dim as before. She wandered the Restricted Section, again, trying to find a familiar path to that door.

Her steps echoed quietly off the walls, bouncing softly throughout the aisle. She never noticed how spectacular this library was, a random thought came to mind. She took time to scan the book titles as she strolled through the place. Potions, dark arts, crystal balls, dark arts…

So many books about the dark arts, but Nathara did not mind it. She preferred being around this stuff. It highly reminded her of Knockturn Alley, the most intriguing magical place besides Hogwarts, Nathara thought. But weren't there other destinations in the Wizarding World? The whole world, France, America, Japan, surely there was so much to explore…

Nathara brought her full focus back to reality. She could explore those ideas later, but she needed to find the mirror.

She took a few turns she remembered taking earlier that night. Right, left, another left. But she could not see more than a few feet in front of her. Still, she tried to navigate the maze of bookshelves.

A few minutes, maybe seven, later, Nathara found herself at the correct door. It was odd that her footsteps echoed, but she did not hear footsteps behind her.

"Ms. Riddle," a voice said.

She smoothly turned around, already knowing who was behind her, "Sir?"

An old wizard, with a long white beard and twinkling blue eyes was in front of her.

"We meet again, Nathara," he said, seemingly unaware of the rule that students were not supposed to meet out of bed at three in the morning in the Restricted Section.

"And so we do, sir," Nathara said.

She looked so much like Tom Riddle, and sounded like him, and Nathara could tell that Dumbledore was thinking that.

"Would you kindly stay right here Nathara?" Dumbledore asked her.

"Of course, sir."

She stood where Dumbledore told her to as he entered that door. What would he do? He hasn't brought up the fact that she was in an area forbidden to students, but Nathara could tell he really didn't care about that. No, something else was lingering in his mind, but what?

She was fingering her bracelet that she always had on, but it flew off her wrist in a puff of black smoke. It did that sometimes, just fly off by itself. She let it do that, because it would come back with some useful information later. That was how she passed her History of Magic test a few weeks ago.

Seconds later, Dumbledore came back out of the room. For a split second, she could see inside. Potter was still there, but he looked like he was about to leave. And the door closed.

"Come with me, Nathara," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Yes, sir," Nathara complied.

They exited the library, and climbed up more staircases. The staircases didn't move, for once. Soon, they arrived at a statue. It was a gleaming bronze statue of a griffin. The griffin was perched in a sitting position, wings spread out in the small, round space.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, then said, "Lemon drop."

The griffin door seemed to nod, then the floor surrounding it rose up, creating a staircase as it did so.

"Follow me, Nathara," Dumbledore said to her.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

They stood on the steps that kept winding up and up in a circular motion, but they seemed the least bit dizzy. The stairs spiraled higher and higher, until they stopped in front of another door. Dumbledore opened it and walked inside. Nathara followed, the door closing behind her. _So this was Dumbledore's office._

The room was also circular. Bookshelves lined the walls, a variety of books and manuscripts resting on the shelves. Portraits of previous Hogwarts headmasters dozed in their frames. Little mismatched tables were scattered throughout the room, with trinkets on top of them, buzzing and humming and dancing with a shared rhythm. More towards the center, a cage stood, with a creature, a phoenix, sleeping in it. The fiery bird glowed softly, like a single candle. Near the cage was a desk. A large desk that held random stacks of paper and other little objects. There was a chair on each side.

"Have a seat," Dumbledore said, watching Nathara gaze around the room.

She drew most of her attention back on the situation, but couldn't help looking wondrously around the office. She took a seat in the chair across from Dumbledore. Their eyes met for a moment. His eyes did not contain any trace of anger, which was a bit surprising, but actually quite relieving for Nathara. But Nathara's eyes didn't show anything. Maybe a hint of fascination, but nothing meaningful.

"Would you care for a lemon drop? They're quite good," Dumbledore offered.

"No thank you, sir," Nathara rejected politely, and she shook her head.

Dumbledore popped one into his mouth himself, then turned back to Nathara.

Nathara spoke first. "It is a lovely office, sir," she complimented.

"Thank you, Nathara. You know, I find magic to be very, well, spellbinding."

"Me as well," Nathara agreed.

The conversation continued further.

"I have heard many amazing things from your professors, Nathara. In fact, Professor Snape has mentioned that you are one of his favorite students," Dumbledore started.

"Is that so, sir? He is not exactly – keen on showing enthusiasm for his students," Nathara said.

"Yes, not the most jolly teacher. I can't exactly imagine him skipping merrily around the halls," Dumbledore smiled, and chuckled a bit.

Nathara gave a small laugh as well. Her smile was charming, flattering, really. Looking off to the side, Nathara saw an interesting book. She couldn't read the title, it was in some kind of foreign language. The cover was all black, and the edges were ripped and teared.

"That's a very dangerous book, Nathara," Dumbledore said. "The darkest of magic lies within those pages."

"I like to think of the dark arts as quite enchanting, actually," Nathara said.

"Why is that so?" Dumbledore asked.

There was a short pause, then Nathara spoke, "It is amazing magic. I find it unique, powerful. Besides, it does not have to have dark intentions behind it, does it?" Her eyes were fixed on the book.

Dumbledore smiled at the wise message, but it quickly faded. He remembered Tom Riddle.

"Nathara, please listen to this," he said. Nathara looked up at him.

"Yes, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed. He started to speak, "Nathara, once I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices-"

Nathara spoke up, "I believe you are addressing Tom Riddle, sir."

Dumbledore talked slowly, "Indeed, I am, Nathara. You see, Tom Riddle made all the wrong choices. He became Lord Voldemort. I want you to not make the same mistakes he did. You're an incredible witch, Nathara, but he-"

Nathara continued, "I am his daughter, yes. However, I really don't think that means I am him, sir." She really did believe in that.

A pause. Another one. Dumbledore was deep in thought. He gazed into Nathara's eyes. Her words could wrap someone right around her finger, but her eyes. Pretty, but they barely showed a hint of emotion. Not empty, just cold. Dumbledore sighed quietly. Quickly, he changed the subject.

"You are a brilliant witch Nathara," he said, that familiar kindness and brightness still present in his voice.

"Sir, the mirror in the library, what does it do?" Nathara suddenly asked, curious.

 _Such an inquisitive_ _student. He was too._

But, Dumbledore answered warmly, "It is called the Mirror of Erised. Essentially, it will show the heart's deepest desire."

The mirror showed her parents. Didn't that mean-

"How does it work, sir?" Nathara inquired.

"I cannot say I know that," Dumbledore said, "magic is very tricky at times."

"Alright then," Nathara nodded. She needed to know one more thing, "Sir, why did you invite me to your office?"

"Goodnight, Nathara. Off to bed now," he dodged.

Courteously, Nathara nodded in acceptance, "Goodnight, sir."

Dumbledore smiled at her, and she

And Nathara left the office. _What was that about?_ That conversation was truly confusing, which highly irritated her.

Both of them felt a bit lost.

 **A/N: Hey. Yes, I haven't posted last week, please forgive. Very many stuffs I'm working on, but as usual, I hope you enjoyed. Slightly shorter chapter, have a bit of a writer's block. I would love to hear some feedback from you guys to see what I could improve. And also, I have to bring up a very pressing matter: Pineapple juice. It just hurts your mouth, it does.**

 **-Kat**


	18. Chapter 17: The Other Face

Chapter 17: The Other Face

Nathara was still confused about Dumbledore weeks later. It was moderately annoying. He never seemed to dislike Nathara, but he seemed to dislike Tom Riddle, who was Nathara's father. Dumbledore seemed to keep on trying to send a message to her like…. _don't be evil_. And Nathara didn't relatively care about good or evil. Moderately annoying.

However, the other teachers highly enjoyed Nathara, except for perhaps Professor Binns, but then again, he couldn't say anyone's name correctly. Nathara enjoyed Transfiguration and Potions the most. McGonagall always recognized how excellent Nathara (and Hermione) was, and Snape would sometimes casually drop potions ingredients on Nathara and Draco's desk, which they both happily used to mess with some Gryffindors. And then there was Quirrell, who still always stuttered over everything, and who still hadn't given Nathara any sign of another meeting. That as well was moderately annoying.

The castle was still bustling with undiscovered things. Nathara found at least two new halls she had never seen before. It was strange how she thought she new the castle already. She had been spending time in the Founder's Tower, where an assortment of unique books and magical artifacts lived. No one else has been there when Nathara was present. It made her wonder about how many people could possibly be heirs of founders. Well, that wasn't unusual, Nathara pondered many things.

Christmas passed, and term started quickly after that. As of right now, Nathara was sitting in charms class with tiny Professor Flitwick, learning the proper way to make teacups do cartwheels. Longbottom had already broken his fifth teacup, which Flitwick replaced with a bit of a sigh. However, the Slytherins, excluding Crabbe and Goyle, had already accomplished the task, and were now chatting in their little group.

"Isn't there another Quidditch game soon, Drakey?" Pansy asked.

He nodded, "Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."

"Hufflepuffs. I bet they can't even tell the difference between a Bludger and the Quaffle," Draco insulted.

The Slytherins smirked at that, and Draco carried on the conversation by telling even more crude jokes about Hufflepuffs.

"Snape's refereeing," Blaise added.

"Is he really?" Draco questioned. "The Gryffindors don't stand a chance, then."

Flitwick suddenly appeared at the Slytherins' desks. Flitwick was hopping around the classroom to see the progress the students were making. Thankfully, he didn't hear any of their offensive remarks about people they didn't approve of.

"Now, who can demonstrate the spell we've been working on?" Flitwick said in his high pitched voice to the Slytherins.

Without even raising her hand, Nathara took her wand, and started waving in a figure eight motion, pointing the wand at the three teacups in front of her. All of the three teacups started doing cartwheels in sync. The teacups started dancing around each other, then rested back into their original places.

"Excellent job, Nathara," Flitwick excitedly squeaked as Nathara gave a charming little smile. Flitwick walked over to where the Gryffindors were, and the Slytherins promptly turned back to each other.

"Showoff," Blaise scoffed.

"Thank you," Nathara said, taking it as a compliment.

"How do you do that, Nathara?" Draco questioned.

"Sorry?" Nathara said.

"With the teacups."

"I believe you already know how to do that, Draco."

"Yeah, but how do you make _all_ of them move?"

"It isn't the hardest thing to do," Nathara said. She took her wand and started moving it in a figure eight pattern, pointed at that blue teacup with little roses painted on it. The dainty cup started spinning and spinning, then Nathara pointed her wand at the two white teacups, which also started to move. The teacups were doing little flips, and Nathara put her wand down.

She nodded at Draco, cuing him to try it. He took his wand and tried to do the same thing Nathara did, but failed. The teacups crashed into each other, leaving little cracks around the edges. The Slytherins chuckled a bit, but stopped when Draco gave them a deadly glare.

"I think your wand works better, Nathara," Draco commented.

"I do too," Nathara said.

Draco dropped his wand in frustration. Nathara picked it back up, then placed it back in front of Draco. He took it back.

"Well, go ahead now," Nathara said to Draco.

He pointed the wand at the teacup, and Nathara immediately noticed he was doing it incorrectly. Nathara reached out her hand to readjust how Draco was holding his wand. They noticed how they were both wearing the rings they gave each other for Christmas.

"Like your present?" Draco asked.

"Yes. Did you?" Nathara asked.

Draco nodded, blushing. _He did that quite a lot._

Nathara let go of his hand. Draco waved his wand, and all three of the teacups started doing little flips. He smiled a bit.

 _Crash._

There was the sound of china breaking. Longbottom broke his sixth teacup.

Flitwick sighed. "Class dismissed," he announced.

The Slytherin girls, except for Nathara, formed into a cluster, then started gossiping away, frequently gesturing at Nathara and Draco, Nathara noticed. As soon as all the Slytherins cleared, a certain brown eyed, bushy haired girl rushed over to Nathara.

"I think that was a great lesson. I managed to make three of the teacups cartwheel at once. It wasn't very hard, though," Hermione Granger started.

"I did too. What technique do you use?" Nathara asked, being formal, which was unusual when a pureblood and mudbl- muggle born struck up a conversation.

The two brilliant witches rallied back and forth, giving advice on certain spells to each other, making sure no Slytherins or Gryffindors saw this unlikely pair.

"Are you friends with Harry and Ron?" Hermione asked, trying her best to not sound suspicious. It did not work.

"No," Nathara shortly stated.

"Oh, well I think you should try. They are a pleasure to be around, actually," Hermione suggested.

"I am not going to be friends with them. Also, Granger, when you try to persuade people to do something, please do not make it sound so obvious," Nathara unemotionally said.

"Please, Nathara," Hermione pleaded.

Nathara said nothing, but Hermione knew that meant no. Hermione bit her bottom lip, and the two headed to lunch, separately.

"Hey, 'thara," Theo called.

They were in the Great Hall for lunch. Most of the first year Slytherins sat more towards the end of the table, but not at the very end. So Theo, Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and some other Slytherins Nathara didn't care about were there. Nathara finally accepted being called 'thara by Theo, who slid her a plate of chips. She looked up.

"Thank you," Nathara responded, and looked back down. Nathara was scribbling in the margins of a book with her small, spiky handwriting.

"'thara?" Draco overheard.

"Do not call me 'thara, _Drakey_ ," Nathara said.

"Are we seriously back to that?" Draco said, playfully annoyed.

Nathara gave a casual shrug, saying 'maybe.' Draco groaned.

A thump came from the back of the Great Hall. Neville Longbottom was there, his legs glued together. He wobbled on his feet, as if gelatin replaced his legs. It certainly did look like that. As he tried to hop to the Gryffindor table, the Slytherins howled with laughter.

"Nice job, Draco," Crabbe remarked, and they high-fived.

Nathara gave an appreciative nod to Draco, and he smirked.

"Watch," Nathara said to Draco. She aimed her wand at Longbottom's feet, and flicked it. Longbottom toppled over, and fell with a loud thud. He squirmed on the ground, having no almost no control over his limbs. It was absolutely hilarious.

As the students laughed at the sight, two Gryffindor gingers suddenly appeared at the Slytherin table.

"Hey, Slytherin Princess-"

"Come with us!"

"It's about Hermione-"

"And maybe Harry-"

"We don't really know-"

"But Hermione needs to tell you something."

They rallied their speech back and forth between each other, until Nathara cut in.

"Weasels, I need to tell you something as well. I honestly do not give a damn about any of this. So please, simply _go away,"_ she said, snakelike.

They dragged her over to the end of the table, where no Slytherins were present.

"It's urgent!" they shouted.

"What would at the uttermost importance right now?" Nathara inquired.

"We don't know-"

"But Hermione does," they explained.

The twins were much taller than Nathara, but Nathara seemed to intimidate the twins more than the twins intimidated her. That was fun. Nathara looked up at them to see if they were going to say anything else, but they didn't.

 _Hermione wanted to tell Nathara something important._ Hermione would warn Nathara about _unnecessary_ things, would she? She wouldn't.

Nathara walked past the twins, and discreetly to the Gryffindor table, arriving at where Hermione was.

Nathara started to ask, "Granger, what-"

"Nathara, do you know who Nicholas Flamel is?" Hermione asked, faster than Nathara.

Nicholas Flamel was the maker of the Sorcerer's Stone. Why would Hermione ask about that? Unless….they knew about the trapdoor….about Voldemort…..

Nathara glanced at an open book on the table and pointed at a set of text, "Here, _Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone._ "

She turned back to Hermione. Hermione bit her bottom lip.

"Did you know that before you read the book?" Hermione asked.

"I can't say that I did, actually," Nathara lied, so easily. "Why would you want to know that anyway?"

"Just curious," Hermione claimed. "Are you sure, Nathara?"

"Positive, Granger."

"Alright."

Then, Nathara realized that two other Gryffindor boys were in the conversation.

"She's a Slytherin, Hermione! You can't trust them!" Ron the weasel said.

"That is not true," Nathara opposed.

"Ron, I can trust Nathara," Hermione supported.

Nathara looked at Hermione with a bit of shock. Hermione didn't notice.

"I can trust Nathara," Hermione repeated. "Right, Harry?"

"Er…I don't really think so, Hermione," Potter disagreed.

"Why not?"

"Because she's helping steal the Stone for Voldemort," Weasley spat.

"That is not true," Nathara lied again, staring the Weasel in the eyes.

"Well, what about that night when the troll got in? What were you doing?" Potter questioned.

"Merely helping Professor Snape sort through a few potions ingredients. Although, at some point, this doglike creature broke into his office. Dreadful, really." Nathara lied convincingly. "What do you suspect, Potter? That I'm one of Voldemort's followers? Ha."

"Helping Snape sort through potions ingredients?" Weasley suspiciously questioned.

"Yes," Nathara confirmed.

"Oh, come on, Ron. She's Snape's favorite student. I don't think that's so shady, is it?" Hermione said.

"What about those claw marks that were bleeding that night?" Potter asked.

"I recall saying that a doglike creature broke into Professor Snape's office. It was a vicious thing, really," Nathara countered.

There was a pause as the four students contemplated that situation.

"I still don't believe her," Weasley stubbornly said.

"I do," Hermione said.

"Me as well," Potter joined.

Suddenly, Potter whispered something very quietly to Hermione.

"Yes," Hermione said, with unequal volume to Potter.

And then there was a heavy silence. Hermione, Potter, and Weasley were exchanging looks at each other. Hermione showed confidence, Potter showed uncertainty, and the Weasel showed plain anger. Nathara's expression revealed nothing.

Nathara broke the silence, "So, do you have anything else to present?"

Potter shook his head.

"Good." Nathara started to walk back to her fellow Slytherins, but Hermione quickly grabbed her arm.

"Granger-"

Hermione cut her off again, "Nathara, please listen."

Nathara took a breath. "Of course."

Hermione lowered her voice, "We think Snape is trying to steal the Stone. Just warn me if anything happens. Please."

Nathara thought for a second. "Yes, Granger," she said.

"Thank you." Hermione let Nathara's arm go, and Nathara walked back to the Slytherin table. While passing the Gryffindor table, Nathara felt something latch onto her wrist. It was her silver snake bracelet that had been missing for weeks. However, it didn't seem to need to report anything. Nathara already knew everything she needed to.

Also, right now, she really needed to see Quirrell.

* * *

Nathara was bored. Everyone in History of Magic was always bored. Professor Binns' lectures were always so boring. Every word he said sounded exactly the same, and he managed to put half the class to sleep today without even trying. However, their were a select few that were scribbling down notes, like Hermione Granger. Nathara wrote down some key points, but wished she didn't have to. It was a relief when the students heard the bell ring, signaling the end of classes.

Nathara got up from the desk in the middle of the plain room, and headed out the door. She turned left, unlike the rest of her classmates, who turned right to get to the Slytherin common room. They would sometimes ask her why she never followed the group, but just ignored it later on. Nathara turned left, because that was where Professor Quirrell's office was.

She knocked on the locked door, and Quirrell opened it.

"Ah…N-Nathara. I c-c-can't quite talk r-right now."

"Sir, please. It is important," Nathara stated confidently.

"Er….q-quickly," Quirrell let Nathara in the room.

He rushed Nathara in, and closed the door as soon as he could. The office had nothing too special in it, but carried a mystical vibe. Quirrell spoke, dropping the stuttering, "What is wrong, Nathara?"

"I would like to inform you that Harry Potter knows that the Sorcerer's Stone is hidden behind the trapdoor, and that the Dark Lord will receive it, sir. I am under the impression that he will try to prevent that from happening," Nathara said.

Quirrell thought for a moment, staring at the bookshelf lined wall. "I will handle that Nathara. That information is highly appreciated, thank you."

"You're welcome, sir. Thank you as well," Nathara said curtly.

A cold, peculiar hissing voice filled the air, "Show her."

Nathara looked around the room, trying to discover the source of the sound. She couldn't find it.

"Master, you are not strong enough yet," Quirrell replied to the voice.

"Show her," the voice repeated firmly.

Quirrell nodded, and started to undo the purple turban on his head, his back to Nathara. Slowly, he started to unwrap the turban. Nathara was on the edge of her seat, like she was reading a very good mystery book. The turban fell to the ground.

A twisted, distorted face was revealed. That was the voice that spoke. Nathara's lips perked up slightly. She was curious, yes. Her face looked just a bit evil. Just a bit. Magic always found a way to surprise her.

"Hello, Nathara," the face spoke.

"Hello," she replied. "May I ask, who are you?"

"Who am I? I am only a mere shadow of what I was, Nathara. I am Lord Voldemort."

Nathara was amazed. "It is a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"It is also a pleasure to meet _you_ as well...Ten years have passed, and here you are. You remind me of myself back then, Nathara. A brilliant wizard…. You are curious as to how this happened, I am guessing?"

"Yes I am," Nathara said, feeling rathe inquisitive/

"We both know the story of The Boy who Lived. When I was defeated, I became just a wisp of the great wizard I was. I can only have form when I share another's. Quirrell volunteered as my faithful servant. But with the Elixir, with the Stone, I can be great again. I will be great again, Nathara. The help that you have provided is appreciated."

"Thank you, sir. Should I be concerned about Potter's doings, sir?"

"Be alert. Otherwise, leave the rest to me."

Quirrell promptly turned around."Now, it's about time for you to leave, Nathara."

"Yes, Professor."

Nathara turned around and walked right, to the Slytherin common room.

 _What was that word again? Horcruxes._

* * *

A/N : Heyyy. I didn't post a new chapter last weekend. Again. Sawwy. ;-; Anyway, I think there will be two or three more chapters to wrap up Year 1 of the story. Do you want me to continue writing into the next years? And if I were to do that, should I make another book for it, or continue to write in this one? Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Today, I enjoyed some really good cupcakes.


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